DUMB FUCK = ME
I speak too much.
Who is that other one? Who knows not much about anything? Where is everyone going? The one who is deaf in one ear, whose got all the signals? There are huge red ants walking in the cold. The hands are nice devices, moving around doing things, where am I going? Weirdness ebbs from knowing too less about something that has not happened too often for people to observe it. The hands are writing while I think why can’t I stop them from futile sign making? These words keep coming out, of my pen?
Strange I feel some heat in my elbow as I bear down on it continuing my erratic action. Am I an insouciant?
I ought to make connections. I ought to make connections.
I ought to make connections…so help me GOD!
I make a rather daft connection now…read on.
My elbow is connected to this hand, which is controlling my writing. May you want what you feel, may you connect what you intend, and may you write what you experience. May experience mangle your head into believing you have chosen aptly the route of your destiny. What is destiny?
Ha ha ha …today’s blog is a jerk off.
Destiny is like this old white piece of decorating paper I used to see hanging from the window sill in my class. I was in school. The paper was the remnant of last year’s celebrations. Perhaps it was a hue of red, perhaps pink. Now it is almost white.
I see it everyday as I peer out of my small window. I often think of it flailing in the wind, whenever I hear the word Destiny. Strange! Do I see a relationship with it?
Am I flailing in the wind? I ought to make connections.
It is so long since I wrote to myself. Here for once nothing is a hindrance, I write and I understand. I breathe as I read. I make the rules. I like the rules I make. I follow my rules. I am MEEK.
Iam stuck.
It is so long since I wrote to myself. Here for once I don’t have to think, iam copying the previous paragraph. I want to use the word HINDRANCE, albeit not in uppercase. Iam still breathing. My phone is beside me….
So?
I want to talk to myself. Say it all Speak like I have no language. I want to turn myself inside out. I want to drop on the floor. With me fall small bottlecaps, straws, coins, bank statements, acid, glass, cigarettes, keychains and my mobile. Its so strange to be part of so many things. I cant find “ME”.
I don’t like to see patterns, but patterns surround me. I don’t like to see patterns but patterns are me. I don’t patterns, like, are, me, see patterns, like, see, me, I, Don’t, patterns, are.
I break patterns and I fail to understand myself.
I QUIT.
Spell more often. I need a wall of cold water falling on me. I also must remember to breathe before the cold sigh engulfs me. Iam forced to breathe. I may hold water. I may drown.
Drowning is good.
I float . I wont drown. No fun.
I should Drown, deep down where the water is a murky brown. No fun.
I speak to much.
I speak too much.
Who is that other one? Who knows not much about anything? Where is everyone going? The one who is deaf in one ear, whose got all the signals? There are huge red ants walking in the cold. The hands are nice devices, moving around doing things, where am I going? Weirdness ebbs from knowing too less about something that has not happened too often for people to observe it. The hands are writing while I think why can’t I stop them from futile sign making? These words keep coming out, of my pen?
Strange I feel some heat in my elbow as I bear down on it continuing my erratic action. Am I an insouciant?
I ought to make connections. I ought to make connections.
I ought to make connections…so help me GOD!
I make a rather daft connection now…read on.
My elbow is connected to this hand, which is controlling my writing. May you want what you feel, may you connect what you intend, and may you write what you experience. May experience mangle your head into believing you have chosen aptly the route of your destiny. What is destiny?
Ha ha ha …today’s blog is a jerk off.
Destiny is like this old white piece of decorating paper I used to see hanging from the window sill in my class. I was in school. The paper was the remnant of last year’s celebrations. Perhaps it was a hue of red, perhaps pink. Now it is almost white.
I see it everyday as I peer out of my small window. I often think of it flailing in the wind, whenever I hear the word Destiny. Strange! Do I see a relationship with it?
Am I flailing in the wind? I ought to make connections.
It is so long since I wrote to myself. Here for once nothing is a hindrance, I write and I understand. I breathe as I read. I make the rules. I like the rules I make. I follow my rules. I am MEEK.
Iam stuck.
It is so long since I wrote to myself. Here for once I don’t have to think, iam copying the previous paragraph. I want to use the word HINDRANCE, albeit not in uppercase. Iam still breathing. My phone is beside me….
So?
I want to talk to myself. Say it all Speak like I have no language. I want to turn myself inside out. I want to drop on the floor. With me fall small bottlecaps, straws, coins, bank statements, acid, glass, cigarettes, keychains and my mobile. Its so strange to be part of so many things. I cant find “ME”.
I don’t like to see patterns, but patterns surround me. I don’t like to see patterns but patterns are me. I don’t patterns, like, are, me, see patterns, like, see, me, I, Don’t, patterns, are.
I break patterns and I fail to understand myself.
I QUIT.
Spell more often. I need a wall of cold water falling on me. I also must remember to breathe before the cold sigh engulfs me. Iam forced to breathe. I may hold water. I may drown.
Drowning is good.
I float . I wont drown. No fun.
I should Drown, deep down where the water is a murky brown. No fun.
I speak to much.
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