lɐıʇuǝpıɟuoɔ ʎʇıɔ

Paul Winfield and
Stacy Keach have been smirking their stories in my ears since i got home


or at least
since i collapsed on to this Flintstones couch
made of stone that's been pressing against my spinal cord.

i don't like the prosthetic sense of security you give me.
because it fades and i feel like i've literally turned in to this disgusting dirty porch turned room
where my brother once bled, and healed.

i feel like the devil is in this room. It's hollow. It's dark. It's stale. It's cold.
And sound doesn't echo in anything but my head;
Everything is so loud.
And I'm melting in to myself
but my skin is too sticky,
and i'm too week to pull my superglued ass up off of this stupid chair.

it's so sad
but i'm just waiting for the weekend so i can give up on trying.
i realized today that i've been in the SAME goddamn since this whole thing began.

i feel so shallow when i'm not talking about the universe.
i feel so shallow when i'm not thinking about existence.
i feel so shallow when i'm thinking about myself
or a room that i sit in
i feel so shallow and scared when people tell me i'm an old soul
because that's just too good to be true
so i'm just waiting for the day
that everybody wakes up
and realizes that they're wrong.
that i'm shallow.
and that's so scary.

imagine a little girl
longing to be a superstar.
she has pink neon green sunglasses, and golden hair, and she's in a black leotard
prancing around with a scarf tied around her waste as a skirt.

she's constantly trying not to want to be a thing
constantly trying to escape human nature.
costantly trying to take care of every body else in the world, just because it makes her so sad to see somebody down.
constantly seeking happiness for others
without beliefs
or disbeliefs
trying to figure out her morals
longing for intelligence
and wisdom

but hating the fact that she longs for anything like that at all.

Tell her you see her that way.
But if she doesn't believe it
it'll terrify her
because she never knows if it'll last.

Listen to how naive i sound. Listen to how much of a baby I am. A child I am. A pathetic little human I am, placing judgement on human's like I know
if I have any right to do so or not.

It's safest to assume I don't.

This is why I end up angry with myself
I don't want to judge.
Myself or anybody.
I don't want to want to be a thing.
I don't want any morals pertaining to those things
or morals that involve those things.
but I can't sort my head out enough.

it's just not possible.
at least not as of yet.