"Autobiography", by me:




Chapter 1
_________


"woops"


_________

The End.

is air tangible?
i dont know if there's a difference between wind and air.

tangible- you can't touch it? grasp it, hold it clenched in your fist until it pops in external suffolcation, exploding in a microcosmos of the gooey big bang?

or understood- no, slash that- realized by epidermal perceptions? the pressure is on, arm hair does not inheritantly conscieously move, protein anemonematic cornfields rippling up and down your bicep. but its so elusive. is it abstract?

air. information. event. wood.
_____________

When is wrong right?
(Phallic turn necessity does when?)
_____________

We like what we see.
Even when not.
Fuji 6x9
Dark slide of the iris
_____________

2 by 2, 4 by 4
everything always comes in multiples.
You are unique.
3 words.
______________

Size is relative.
Reality is subjective
Relativity has no value
except to organize
the constant change
of chaos.
You are a construct.
Entropy happens.
_______________

Even the buttefly is flightless without the help of nature. A dispossessed monarch.//The deposited heirarchy is the lint in my navel.
_______________

end.





beginning

Cheer up, Groucho

@3
I feel like I should write you a letter. Schick you ein Brief. Today, collapse, and yesterday.
Yestreen.
But now?
Maybe I'm too tired to write. Too anxious? Too...jaded; everything, at one point, has been said and done? Maybe it's just that I'm fed up with It all, that searching for a meaning is driving me madder- and darker. It's almost equivalent to solving the question, "What's the difference between an orange?" Especially if you're blind, deaf, dumb, and comatose, and lost in Calliope's maze on Crete. Right now, I'd give a material anything to be the aforementioned for three days. Watch out- heed?- the satyr. Sphynx? Sarcophagus? CENTAUR! Why am I compelled to validate my existence in 20/500 vision, when the songbird can be heard singing from the beech tree protruding from the black lagoon? Twittering into my realm, pulling on the lifestrings with two pliers and a pencil sharpener. Plop, the twat belts out descants and variations of a chromosymatic nurturing degree-side showercap.

I hate "whatever." But you know what? No, you don't.

I'm a point where things go up and never fizzle down, where the cattail fries in the morning heat, as the earthworm shimmies onto the sidewalk only to have its crispy pathetic existence dribble ooze out of its exoskeletonangular tubey turd called its body. Silent Bob shouldnt talk, but who am i to complain?

Wazitmattah?

Glory gone rotten, fermenting in my rusty Ninja Turtle garbage can.

At least the drones contribute to skewed subsistence. The bees still collect honey. Mah little huneybunie they call the rising sun, Ekenywa. And in retaliation I sit and wait for a "no go". Astronomical delicacies of the great Taj Mahjal.

I dont want to say I need you, because I dont like being vulnerable. Hey, DNA says I'm human. This is questionable. Never put yourself in the position of being desperate. Frogs dont eat with forks, but we still shouldnt eat with our toes. Engorge yourself with your cornea and amyglada. I think I'll post this on deviantart. BECAUSE I CAN. The apathetic self-righteous oblivious world could always do with more angst and dreams of math teachers in bike helmets. Even right....NOW! NOW! RIGHT NOW!

The temptation is looming, and may inner peace never befall you.
Tschuss,
*

i am

restless


my life is

dull


i need

answers


and action


---to


------stop


-------------suffocating



celestine prophet?

time bomb EXPLODE!


must.....