These last days and months, completely drugged-up, expressing, experiencing, growing my soul like a weed with flowers on it- like a vine strangling up a tree, climbing to great heights, squeezing life from the host, flowering and nectorring the huny beez…
These crazy days and 2 o’clock in the morning ventures that I do not remember; the recordings and forwarding of bottomless ideas…
It had been fun and comfort of the familiarity of “fucked up”. Time to get back to eat right.
Time to get back out this Black and book my mind criminals with every declension I write.
Today is the day; this morning is the only morning. As early as it is, ’tis late in the minute. Fleeting and already gone. Screaming, yes singing the forever timeless song. Can’t figure out what is wrong. But the cost of it presents me exhausted.
My pupils can dilate no more, my liver must shudder and cringe at the oncoming onslaught of this next bindge; therefore, it can only wait on the corner like an utter whore, awaiting the coroner and his definitive, unattached report.
This report I have built with the solid pschyce that lights my candle must implore that it is soft as silk, collared by the dry-heaves and fights- ample lessons for these ideas- ideas that are as heartfelt as paid Hessians.