Twirl cray cray Daisy
*Please feel free to throttle me/ unfollow me. This is worse than Trollope tripe -it would be more pleasurable watching a live abortion. Maybe that is inappropriate. I don’t think there is anything pleasant about what I have just let myself type. Apologies*
I think I feel a little sick.
Success is opening up her arms and people waving flags with my initials on it.
Sounds narcissistic but I guess I am afraid of the things I want most.
Success, Praise love, and Happiness.
Seamless drama is never far from a molecule in a foreign body on an abstract shoreline.
Possibly an inch closer to the imperial mix.
Take me up to shallow waters to bubble blowers and fellow talkers.
Don’t say it was me who created this venture.
I should have known ‘off the bat’ how it all works,
I’m feeling the inferiority rapture.
No, I don’t think I’m grand.
I don’t have time to glance in my Id crescent- shaped reflector.
I’m too busy overtaking the speed of light
working on the next bender, I mean.. adventure.
Praise me. I say thank you. I might even put a smile on for the finale.
Inside I’m thinking:
If you knew me I would be the one laughing when I hear some dude pronounce the G – in the word gnarly.
This is how I push people away. I make them think I have the flair to take every offer going spare.
Guaranteed, I will hike up the rent on the boardwalk by the glitchy sea.
I don’t know who to talk to.
These four walls and a cerebrum of characters have overspilled,
bulging out of their zippers.
appealing for me to gaze down to the center of all taboo.
Replace this mind below the gentry hippers.
Inside I need a pressure valve replacement.
Are they right?
the ones who make me feel I’m wrong like I’m a pyscho.
I tipple over the mountain edge in fright.
Who to believe?
The ones who make me feel I’m ugly inside?
an object on the outside – something to be used – an animated tool.
do I believe the ones who make me feel like the sun shines?
every time I reach out
pouring my words over anyone who feels the need for a breeze of air:
Legit fresh cool
Inside I’m tumbling.
A Scotsman in true fashion – rolling down hills with wee scant from a below eye level.
The mailer in this ale is taking its time to zoom around this corpus Christi.
The one in whose image we are declared.
Hear them all rebel when I tell them to leave my goat- she has her own bell.
I don’t believe in religious carnality.
I believe I’m here.
Think I can only post something reeking in banality.
All the time.
I look for a reason for why people are wrong to love me.
I get bored and frustrated.
I look back when Evolution dictates to reason that I must move forward to reach the charlotte caramelized sea.
Don’t look back in anger.
Avalanches of prejudice awaits me.
Raging in a carnival of colored palettes.
Two-tone is a note to hear something based on sweet civility.
Chivalry crept up on me and I made a splash.
Juxtaposed in the style of the clash.
More whale than mermaid -not quite the sight I was hoping you would remember me.
bobbing on a skyline.
Can I stand up or will I end up putting myself out?
Surprised at how I manage to keep the white cloaks from rapping at my window.
I’m sure I made a terminal agreement to sign myself in if
my face didn’t resume back to timeless position after a session of ‘the heavy pout’.
To make up or not to make up.
To share and be open or hide and whisper Goethem.
Reeled back to a cause – a club with red tape around the chill out room.
Stumped, I could be in a forest, for all you know, I could be higher than that blue kite.
Erect like her witches wooden broom.
My minds a place of genuine fear at times.
I can feel people waiting to hear what will come out every orifice.
Laugh with me or at me.
Make sure you got a clue what you on about – in every topic up for discussion.
don’t look around for a bar room tit,
just so you can feel a head higher than the king of Epileptic fits.
The most viscous harness whip I encounter is my own corpus callosum.
It comes out at me, at you,
at the crowd.
Prey eyes – fear the bird with the talisman.
Some days I think about being ordinary, then I think,
of course, I’m beyond that station of being so free.
I let fools rush in – I make a meal with plenty of meat and two servings of potato
I doubt myself too much.
I talk way too much shit to get any credit for how this piece ends
Did you know I have long toes?
My favorite ice cream is the one with the little Eskimo.
Posted on 2017-02-17, in EXPERIMENTAL WRITING and tagged Emotions, EXPERIMENTAL WRITING, Fears, GO THORUGH ALL OF THESE, Random, self expression, self-esteem, stream of consciousness writing, WRITE TO RECOVER. Bookmark the permalink. 21 Comments.