She the Sea

All of my ancient loves manifested

All of my Harlem's 

All of my secrets in a bottle 

at the bottom

of the sea.

If She the Sea wants ye,

you'd be there. 

I'm writing all this down again because I need to.

I've been waking up before dawn
with the frost with a nervous feeling
I might be late for work.

I'm late for LIFE.

I'm not sleeping much. I only started eating again
because my mother brought me back here,
and gave me no choice.

I'm late. I should be somewhere by now. 

I actually wanted something.
For the first time in my LIFE I wanted something
and I wanted somebody
and I'm going to type it out until my soul has digested it
and I'm afriad I can't let myself care
about how pathetic it may be to need words so badly
or about caring in itself. I can't let myself care
about the fact that I cared.

It all went away in the blink of joke.

What can possibly be next?

I came into this year the happiest I've ever been.

I believed I was changing. I felt older,
slightly more sophisticated. I felt satisfied.

But the world changed for me again.
The world changed for me so I could stay the same.

I felt I had a place in a community. Relationships of mutual benefit.

Mutuality is a myth?

Mutuality as the myth.

These have been bad luck days.

I actually feel REGRET. And that's an emotion for the

bottom feeders.

My feet are asleep. Let me curl up on the floor,
numb. 

If I could un-fuck anything... I'd take the prize
from the gathering and leave the gathering behind.
I'd have the affection back and feel lucky.

Alas,

I am alone. Learning.

Rant.

Chill. Vibrant environment, bright, glowing hard. But homely, comforting. But social, coming-and-going in moment, and movement, movement. And I relent. And I withdraw, and I have given myself withdrawal. And I have taken myself away from these things but only to observe the spectacle. I have taken on the role of card 9 most intimately and, besides that, masturbation helps. Always helps. I will achieve another vibrant place. I will achieve another sex muffin. Right on the grounds I've been laying. I will archive my mischievous grin. My shitty attitude. I swear, I will make up for this with love. I will make up for every dirty thought with love, too. I swear. But I've over-dignified the situation already. Just be in my company. I'm vulnerable 98% of the time. Eager to observe the world as it orbits around you. Eager to observe the whole world, even in horror. I fuck up every time. This is my soul resume. My afterlife aftercare. My unbelievable psychological concoction of epitome and demise. A sweet tart. A smiling cat. I always thought they were distanced and strange. How do you read me? I feel like dancing and I've felt like dancing since the first time I danced. These days are so severe. These subtle, inexpressive moments filling in the loose ends of expression itself. I have a regret to digest. I have a regret to dance out. I have an idea to put away. I have a romantic idea I have yet to put away. I'm stirring in the shit of my dreams. I'm stirred up in all the curious ends. Was I manifesting totally completely but not consciously? I'm a helpless character in love. I should come with a tattooed disclaimer. A regret for later. A regret I can't digest. And the whole scope of things I've cared for and the whole scope of fallacies I've fallen for and the secret snakes and the roaring lion. I have a twisted path to follow. I'm imitated it here on earth. I swear, soul! I've got SOUL much lovin' and I aint bound to forget. I have every intention to laugh. I may cry so bitterly you'd be set a cast uncomfortable, but I will end my day with laughter. I had things I cared for. I'm not about to go bitter, that's why I've let myself weep so. I will bow down to my fool and scream most hysterically. In my home I am secure. I am self-sufficient and wholesome: wholesome, prone to dirty talk. How would you respond? Now my wings have to make me fly. Now my youth has to be good for something. All; fucked up. Cast aways. Hey, we congregate in this city. It's surreal when you think about anything. I told them I was feeling better, less horny. But I'm feeling as devilish as can be. I can't stand my own scent for a second. I hated myself for a second. But no thing within me knows how to believe that. I'm alright. I'm as decent as decent come. I've got a strong sense of European hospitality. And I will do you every good you do me and more. And I will kill you if you kill me. Sometimes I take defeat; conquered. I've held Blasphemy in my hands. I've known the culprit in every devious robbery of spirit. The sky cries as much as I do. It's freshwater spring. Mating season, the perfect time to feel lonely. Repeated idiothood. This city, this city. I am every piece of existence pieced together. I reach out to people. Like the sun bursting through thick clouds. I reach out to my furthest extent. Typically, they're interesting enough. Typically, I can smell some sort of distance-past, some sort of hidden memory. Smoking a medicinal kind of wisdom of the fool. Soaked completely in this revolting paradise. The beast of soul! The human is a craven, wonton, unbelievable creature of the soul. In this way, my ultimate self can be any other self. I am the fool. I trust my fool most of all. I will follow my fool down to the end. I have trust in the end. I am the fool.

short

I've lost my handle
Perception Escapism

I've been ditched I've been taken in
I've been boiled hard
my yolk is totally spoiled.

Okay, mighty ones. I anticipate your charm
I've received my immediate-exit of
the comfort zone.

I've enforced outright living
and poor impulse control be my haven
for my heaven is hellish

And I have decided it so.

Disbelief of change

I blew my load on my boss cos
everyone's got their gender on backwards here

I blew it. I am a glowing, young ruffian.
I am a beautiful loser.
I am a natural born killer with eyes only
for myself.

Did I fuck up everything?

Did I do it for poetry?

I don't want to fuck myself for poetry anymore.
I don't want to lick my lips over this pussy anymore,
I want the balls to be loved.

I thought I broke the patterns. 

Every year I throw my work away and jerk off
back in its direction. Every spring I can't stand it anymore.

This time, though... I wanted to stick. This time I wanted to stick.

Universe, my lessons becoming clear with this pattern.
Take me under. Have your way with me.

Hurt me. Bring me back for more.




I've been taking my own advice?





I feel too free for this. This time the world lingered
detached, not my typical tranny of dying
not my usual casual decay

This came at me from afar not from the intimate
I have to take what I don't want

Though I still trust magnificently.

Something big is around the corner?
Where will this freedom take me?

I have one concern.

It's stupid.

Will the lion still be my friend?

You're telling me everything you don't want me to know 

You're spilling your guts and your heart

sank into your guts

Now you have so much space