Today wasn't splendid. It was usual. Yes, I chose to tend ulimately meaningless but (still) unresolved thought processes. What did I want to do instead? I'd say it was something along the lines of writing something of actual meaning as apposed to the natural lazy surreal wordplay ditch I push myself into. A reocurrance if you couldn't tell. Do I love humanity? No. I do not. How could I love anyone or anything if I do not love myself or love of anything at all for that matter. It seems this conclusion of depravity leans against a wall, such a wall built of my esteemed passions in conflict with perceived reception within civilization. I have no reason for telling you this at least (I have no reason to live either). Here's a diagram to explain:
In proceeding to exert my subject of choice into any various mediums, gathering a rusted chain ensues.
Who? Me
What? Passion
When? by the moment
Where do I lose passion? upon confrontation
Why do I lose passion? I find no WORTH in the result? I find no REASON in the result? I cannot obstruct a self-afflicted fallacy?
How do I lose passion? I become tense (physical) when overwhelmed by possibilities of the world (mental). My motives contradict due to distraction, leading to fallout.
I stopped writing this continue my brown streak of incompletion and hate myself further into procrastination, hypocrisy, and slothful self-destruction.
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How I dispose of myself into the garbage.
I want to know more.
I am peeled from reels, the video tape
Hoe Holes to martyrdom over extrapolated taste.
A disjunct wino turn
Into a worse tasting puddle muddle
That was cute.
Before I made a distinct distinction on behalf of humanity.
After I was gladly introduced to a new invention of food.
While the banter slaves powder stranded layers.
In turn I am foiled by drinksters (“Hipsters… with a FLICK”).
Automated expressions on our faces.
Voaks from kitch:“The fake sugar in this taste’s like soy sauce-hua.”
Panned rub, sock eating man, strut makers, channel changing, money making. The tried and true focus of life. The pinnacle of life, and the bachelor’s pride in success.
Away form the turns, you turmoil founder--with believers too—of, of course…
And I found her, waiting at the goblet from some Sunday stew
And you were aware but not taking part.
That wacky saw in the bathtub? U-hYeauh that was ME.
Take care, the computer automatically concluded.
And as forlorn as I too see it so.
The battlement in juncture to the cabinet: mus©h too steep, steep too mus©h.
Okay, who’s next. Flatter me. I’m about ready to get this done and get the hell out.
How in your pimpy puny prune foul rotted sack did you get that cut?
The next street over just vanished like the puke on the shelves. Okay?
Flat mouthed teeth grind muppet head fate wretch kind of heartburn/indigestion.
That was what made me a star. Picking poop up in cubes shaped like hearts and stars and bears.
That I reckon was a clone dad speakin’ to your bones.
That's affirmative,
I am in the core now.
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"ONE LAST CELEBRITY FACE MATCH, THEN I'LL BE READY FOR A CONSCIOUSNESS CLEANSE (outside refresh, finally a cigarette and maybe eiter a bottle of water or a can of mom's diet coke, I'm not sure...)."
My daily battle. With, none other, than my own conscious mind spewing cracked pipes and loosened bolts. I could fall down at any moment and peak the curiousity and entertainment cravings of the general public, and at least, propose a moment of interest in the more self-controlled types. But anyway, as the example is strewn forward, streching to a thinner, and more brittle self--each second I do not cease, and to once--and for ail--fullfill my momental additions.
Additions:as in thought and in feeling; The natural imposition to account for any balance, modify, structure, deny, etcetera of a thought or feeling and extrapolate a course of action, based upon previous accounts. Ex. "Here we will have the loudest soft spoken man carry a tuba a top a mountain and see if he chooses to blow his heart out or not after the arduous hike."
There will be no more silly banter from now on. Don't trust me baby?
