An Anti-thought

Bluerh!

I need write jibberish

Before I write, or it comes out

It comes out as

The biggest grisliest garb of crap

Why do I crave to say shit no one wants?

In ways, many have said before

If people know, why am I compelled?

No one would ever want to know either

The nicest thing I’ve heard

People don’t want to read how it grows

The joke is over,

All that which is left, is fun, my fun, our fun

And that is no story

You don’t get a story out of love,

You get it out of falling,

Passing by,

And exiting.

So stop-just-stop… rationalise and shut up!

An odd thing to spend your downloads..

What friends are really for: exploitation/exploration.

May 16.

I don't know what it was. My day hadn't been a good one. Anything small made its way into a state, a state of difficulty. I reacted to things in weird ways, people noticed. Their questions brought it to my attention, my reactions too difficult to hold my attention. I didn't want anything today, or does time count? Does time count as wanting something. I wanted to feel time, but instead I couldn't and that in turn opened my senses at the touch of the atmosphere. There wasn't a weight, there wasn't anything. Myself and the atmosphere merged in atoms, like a pellet of baking soda dropped in water. Now I know why I've cried today for no reason; I simply felt every ripple, a vulnerability.

Ah I breathe in now,
a new breath that I draw in for a longer time.
Trying to force out the old air,
bring in the new.

Recently my life changed,
and I've felt like that for a while.
New air.
Full lungs.

I forgot what change was
lost a little in the middle,
enjoyed the hell
but now I've remembered

I will remember, until the new
grows old, and I will then
forget again.
But right now:

My lungs are full,
my breasts rise and fall, over my chest
and I don't notice too much
I focus on this late autumn air

How the chill remains in my nose,
making it run a little
How my back straightens to let more in
How I can smell the very essence.

So I know right now
that i am
Exactly where the world wanted me
And that is precisely where I ought

I too, crumbled.

Everything quivered before it leaked

An attempt to hold the bridges,

The damns were made.

I knew it was coming.

The first deep gasp for air

As if it was held for punishment

It let out a noise so ghastly

Shocked (if there were any) spectators.

All barricades down

They let it fall out.

Drip by tiny drop

The rain makers ran dry.

My mind mixed with mud

Until the damn is full again and bursts again,

There is content in my confusion.

A wild fire

She thinks she is clever
And on most accounts she is.
But she looks for love
Among the river-bed-pebbles.

Their surface always washed away
And she admired that
She wanted that for her own.

The girl so fair that it was a shame
That she dove beneath
To find love and peace.