okay okay all right all right

best before yesterday told girl who identifies herself as a girl said felt 30 minutes later was ape shit.
saviour of eyes. tree of desire. reemed boned ridges up all against the texture.

I've seen a young girl grow old like a withering tree under the influence of suppressive pressure. POP SHIT. post modern swings dance lgihtly all over the floor covering underneath which arise skins


this time stops
it spins and lets you out disbobbled
the things you have seen, the things you see, the things you open your eyes to
long distance form from point just here now
but you
are a scientist
littles
say goodbye to
say hello to
identify & conquer!
i you was she he were with them they loud
fucking pet fuxkin hospital

And in those bad moments in your head, in your bed, slide your fingers up your leg, up to your chest, and hold your own heart the way you like. I like to cradle mine and tell her-him-we that even though life is really scary and daunting, hurtful, crazy, beligerent, confusing, and oh... well. It's okay. It will get better. Because here I am now holding you, and I for one, the only important one, love you, whatever you are, unidentified thing, a living creature, all glowy surges

and your back may be letting itself be too straight, too distraught, like right now, I am very straight, and I do so by hardening the muscles, especially in my back.
But i can't take it off like a jacket.
I can't shake it off like a cough in the middle of the night, as I try to sleep next to mold.
it's on. a long standing chronic disease. and i talk negative shit, it doesn't shake off, it doesn't rub off. I whisper or try to whisper like borges, and whisps of soil, not silk.

Unusually.

She he him her jumped out her him their skirt seated ness, and yelled, "And I am not a self, but I do believe in hell. It's the allusion of selves. It's the illusion of s'elf, It's the absolution of self!"

Badly.


Period/

Stains

Teeth

Grin
Wide


Open
Ses
Amy
on me
amor

job sequencer begins
job sequencer stops

all film was lost
in the great fires
of sandstorm number 3
beckonning winds to burn ether

and the sun exploded like a good friend, my friend

Okay so today I am incredibly negative. Negative to the positive, just flip it over to the Negative. Can't get over get it over get over it it get it over with it, get over it, Over to it. Over.

Catch the 11:30 bus, scrape once heel turned up turn it turn before fall slip.n. o
heeeeels. Just wait. Oh tall boots of shiny shony. Paste your hair.

let it layers
im afraid
john was caving in

can butt scream at ya and surge
so angry
hate worlds like trees
tresses
desire death to skins on onions and sharply dressed persons talls with clickity heels walking past my bedroom floor is a floor is a floor has no door. No looksies. Onlyrubsies. Fallen ankles and angels. I measure up to no one. Made purdy. Wrapped woods grains fall into oatmeal, and taste so good.

Measure up. no never I never eat breakfast. It falls in my lap. Shake patterns and make snadwiches. I haven't ever realized or been able to feel without immeaurable truth how unbeleievable ...


masho-ego-tistTICK
LIck a stick
bang your own mouth
smudge a pitty pit

spend time seeking revenge when bored

love and loose showers

i am pretendiNG to be richer than I am

DING!


unknowable creature you who hide under skin i bleed out every day to fill up I use gasoline right into my veins. it's not unusual to stick a pin in my arm . quite often that is how I've found love, the drug.
[heart held out a drug called love] love your mother lover her good. Shove her under. It's no good. Above another. Above a friend. Tie the rubber tires to eahc end, a bend, a burnt rubber, melt, into oH so toxic brain and toxic heart. So hard, so hardened. It can never fall apart.

measuring up FOR PLEASUR KING
missed money on the counter got to get away

what is this grit?

if i love does it grow like a vine? upwards? wrapping? scraping? does it have thorns? does it scratch my neck as it climbs up to high heaven? i remember being a plum. plum forgot.

now the water bubble, trembles. out-pours like gloop, round and thickened as it drips, bubbles in bubbles out bubbles, and oozing soft and squishy lens. you watch as it ebbs the globulus forms to where the light bounces off into your eyes.
Ay. This is the nature of the things that drip, from your nose, snot, and cough, from your heart, blood, from your toes, fungus, and from your mouth, froth. babies .... or rabies .....

Now sitting in a hospital, eye institute section.

Now sitting in a hospital, eye institute section. Am thinking of my huge eyes, feel deja vu rub against me. It is not always comforting to feel familiar. I pity myself over my eyes, and wish I wanted to right sweet sweet poetry with ambi-sextra form and pharma of communication. No, but I am a scientist.

There is a grey wall to my left, made of plastic, with some texture added. Everything is smooth in here. The tones are light, the colors, variations on blue and grey.
Above the textured wall, a smooth one, some shades lighter blue/grey/sea foam green. There are doctors in shirts and pants, all uniform. And doctors in long white lab coats. We sit around a silver metallic circular table, and post-modern styles of wood grain. The natural made unnatural, has appeal. It appears cleaner than nature, and yet susceptible to the most terrible of diseases. Because after you enter a hospital, you enter some sort of underground world, one where people gather to and from to be healed, to heal, or to make money off of the two.

If, I look around and think: This is a place of healing. One would wonder, why does it feel so stifling? But health has always been confused with control.

And as i look around with my robotic eyes in the eye institute of OHSU, I feel a sense of belonging. This institutionalized setting, I remember. I am you. We sit here on this rotating table, and they look at us. And touch us. And we let them, metal parents with hind noses. It's okay they're old, and remind us of Pa, and we feel a sense of comfort. This is familiar. I remember the last time I stuck my surgical steel into your fleshy folds.

I see hopeless mind, who are being steered by others. A mix of revolving winners ( scuplture school for the blind) and falings drive.

Yesterday, I watched a movie about a society who created a brain that was so smart and foreword thinking, it could not control its rapid growth, became greedy, and chose to continue growing. To maintain its dead cells, it killed other living beings and used their vital cells, but in exchange turned them into empty metal shells who killed upon demand.

Created from creatures that later would was try to destroy themselves, inadvertedly, as if their future selves were enemies of a past selves that put them that way to begin with.

At odds with one's self.
s
ends

A: This is a pity! I pulled out mud and blood with concrete, building this house to house your emotions that get stuck down.
B: Brilliant!
A: Well of course, I am simply the best thing ever. How does one measure value?
B: In inches of fingers. The measurements on your arm.
A: Yes, I hold down the angle of my elbow to the ground to measure your feet, which are unfounded by the way.
B: I have to go.
A: Finish this house. Finish this cage!
B: I am the matter of this wall, and the mutt of this star!
A: I will fine you or find you if you go.
B: Chel-out. Chelate. When ether and air rise, one can purse their lips and blow a pearl straight through bubble barge and blow 'dem down the hole. Ha.
A: Well, goodbye.
B: I'll be only out here allowing you to be vulnerable.
A: How does that work again, matter?
B: ....
A: Mutt?
B: I'll be gone, I, your emotions, sacrificed, and only vulnerability..
A: Remaining. I let you go?
B: We allow each other to run out sometimes, with the unknown chance of some other fluidity filling the space. That, is vulnerability. And it shows us how to be truly comfortable, in the wave of time as they nap in their own globbultaing universe, hammock.
A: Ham & Muck!
B: Muckker!
A: Matter!
B: Mater!
A: Mad Mad Hatter Hater!
A & B: BLurn blurn boiling ina pot of boiling matter.

What is it that they don't tell you? That even when you feel settled you haven't figured it out? that there is no figuring out... That when you pull on my hair and love me like that, did I want it?

Like hair through a pulling. Woken up shaking. Kept raping myself. Incredibly sensitive. Triggering. Lower the gaze.


little liar.


these are some of the harsh words spun out of gold hearted lions.

spun gold, so hair, can lay, and be pulled, through holes, with pull, and pain, so when loosened.
it rains. ruptures. ovarian blood. i imagine, it pumping off and out flowing over and never ending.
dog. hair carpets. veins pumping with blood or vomited wine,
On my face, I hold up my hands to cover the wine or blood, for you, not to see, for me, who do not want to be feared. ALl I can say is not what is going on, but what is going down. my face on the concrete, bled white from my throat king.

down with poverty. down with immobilizing confusion. down with allies.

deliberately he ignored me. deliberately my mouth was shut. screwed shut frankenstein.

neon yellow glow (this is a story now), came up shimmered and let her sparkles fall. She knew that this world was old, and she needed something new. Yellow glow entered her heart and kept it warm with the digestive fires and joys of life. She remembered how to open and believe in warm hope. To be honest in words and action. And little baby blue who was sad released from the cavities. like muccuus in the morning, when we wake, and breathe again.
are we all dead in our dream anyway well are we or arent we...

and held him tight like a baby to coo him back into his story. just a hole. do i look like a person? i certainly don't act like one. And there are certain things you can do to dehumanize yourself. Please at all costs, always say yes, do what you're told, and enable others to complete their goals, but never, never under any conditions steer straight ahead your own ship. Remain in the enclosure, as it tightens, around your hairs, encapsulating to take to the lower intestine, all aboard the magic ship, the magic blood, hey hey, the magic blood.

let me tell you how the world works, what you ask for is gone, what you wish for comes years later, when you feel discomfort in your heart it grows as you imagine it. a small gift may mean a lot to you, the giver, and nothing to the one who shall receive. there are dualities that spear through you and puncture wounds, there are things we like to accept, like gravity, it makes sense. it makes sense. we have skinned knees and need to play basketball.
I am associated punky hair colour. I make dark look brown. I wear multiple references to animals. I clown around and look. All I feel I don't know how to express. i only feel it as a beat in my heart as A sliver of thought already passing. I wanted us only to msush our veins up against eachother and meld our blood. I was afarid to become a father, always being blamed by the mother. I will have a child that is dead and stillborn. It is sad. I am glad for patronage in tickets, and picket lines. White picket fence fine time line or find a time to see me? No.

BECAUSE IAM JUST A DREAM YOU SEE AND DO NOT SEE .

What is this feeling inside that makes me bleed sunshine? Who is too colorful for the ones who suffer baldly.

What is this new form of vanity. To bleed vanity with painful dollops of wasted blood. My menses. And I am unsure why, I need to make sure you have a place to sleep. I blindly care as if wanting or knowing (they are one? two? blue?) I want to help for the sake of you having been helped, not for cause of me helping. I am blind and talk too much. Mouth opens to squueze thought I could not calm. I am angry at you Oh father for separating your seed out, between boys and men. I am boy again. I am a boy who is agirl. ANd I want that to be okay.


I love you. And it will take so long to live with you.

poe about the rapture

we love to die
it is for all people
we are all equals
and i loved her as a people
and i loved her as an equal
and i pushed her from the steeple and i loved her as a people

Is there any such thing as a true voice?

I am bumbling around. I know what to do, and don't do it, I figure it out, and wait. I write, not caring how I sound, just that it comes out. This will lead no where.

Yesterday on the bus, Miguel and I asked each other the question, "Do you feel like an American?"
I explained, "Well, I didn't even think I was white until someone told me."
This correlates to also how I didn't recognize that my mother had a somewhat thick arab accent until someone told me. This especially becomes clear when she uses the wrong words or others say they just can't understand her accent, and I not only understand but can fill in the words she graps for in conversation, I know how wide her vocabulary is. The mind is curious place.

We share an understanding of my faith, my blood, it's not like an identity. And I want to make this clear. My mother did not instill in me an identity. I mean of course she did.

blah blah blah...


New story: later