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favorite catch phrase

Cities turn to ash and souls sucked from the heart of me, dreaming is believing and in my dreams I still believe, but when I wake, a vagrant mess yet oddly focused on the world of sick besides me, the black sand pits around my eyes, the yellow of my cheeks and holy bag of hair on my morbid head, a poison control unit wrapping up the scene of last night’s controlled decimation of my inner stomach, I feel strangely free of the strains of mind that are so picture-perfectly human, flash forwards of how real it all was when I died, three days ago past my eleventh century and teetering forward, edging that black lagoon I think of how sweet it would be to jump. And the question still thrills me: will I miss me when I’m dead?? How long can a memory live before it’s eaten by jaws of sadness? How long can we cling to the ceiling before the roof caves in? In my mind and in time, these words will get the best of me, like an ancient secret too young to touch with steely eyes, I am adrift here in your seas as though my mind were a window in a door, maybe one day open, now the streets are empty in my window and barred is the door from inside. As the willow branches bait me with their smooth sweeping philosophy, like the moon singing sweetness to my ears, I want to cry, just break down and release this crap from my mind and my soul, Mind is a sick fuck, wont let me be with myself, some days its not s o bad 12/19/02 convergences on the o-matic done grammefied my speeches peaches pearly goo gone for fuck knows when I seen the cracks in these mirrors we keep and who we know hides in there, the grey green, gobbled up by medicine, hearts take shapes of form we babble ancient melodies alive in the subtext known about as grand gabbing, geese gibber so, and even too the marching band sings for her name, a fargone zygote to hem upon the fabrics we like and say we know,,, who am I ??? have I let you go? Am I just a warden in a fucked up prison, or am I too a prisoner here, in this cell with you? Can we face the door, have a look outside…and what might we see out there, can you feel it? All the world harmonizing in one single note that lasts a second and that second stretches for miles and for centuries until we’re buried by it and we don’t even know it, so babble on I go in an indifferent rampage on everything known to be sacredly known, when wild eyed I appear at your door, don’t push me away, but invite me to tea and maybe a late lunch and we can talk about days unending which are long gone from now but live still within our souls seeking our remembrance that they may live again. Don’t ever forget, you told me that once, remember? It’s all in the lines, between our eyes in the seas which exist simply to toss your mind on a big wave, and you know sometimes these thoughts get in the way, and its perfectly alright to just push them away, I am a curmudgeon, smoking and killing my eyes, great leaps of self loathing spreading over this thin shroud of self, but there’s movement inside, and I know I’m alive, here and now, so live forth through rivers and canyons, to the tops of mountains where your screams echo before your mouth opens and the wild is still real and inside you and running with the forces of all nature everywhere until it returns again to a whisper in the deepest part of your ear where it stays to comfort you, when you feel alone, when no one is there, we are here, all of us everywhere. Its done now, nothing to do about it now. Se la vi… Chaos, confusion, conclusion, misusing, defined by a cellular high, to ceiling, too sealing left me the transplant? fortunate that they’re not all like me, I can’t breathe, Truth concerns exactitude of belief, not reality.- Austin Osmond Spare 12/22/2002 more from the morbid mind to a gentle, reasonable and maladjusted sea brain…see, we’re crazy here, all of us, and a spinal party we are here having… control, having none eppi eppi eppi panoony droodle impasta pretenso!!! Magniforic … anyway, thoughts, bleeding, dreaming seeming illegible over open oceans!!!! For the type to excite, envelope me in your slow tide, let me lick your sea walls Drain you of the day to replace the gentle night love air, 12/27/2002 Help and hell holed up inside after a fair and afraid I’m let out to parade my loneliness is sympathy but the emptiness is killing me, In the morning I’m awake where I lie / and I’m dawning and all I wanna do is hide / 1/1/03---first day of the new year, clear of dusty bones and mad cretins excepting myself of course, these days its an admonishment to be unheard, a blessing to be not seen and too real to be negated… fungus forms within me, smile, I’m tired of lurking here. Of course, she said, whats the matter? Am I? and to touch upon those lips with this spirit flesh these eyes have glimpsed the presence within. I only know that I’m too much sometimes. 1/2/03--- ah, another end number to get used to, what are we so afraid of? Is it in this kiss where eyes finally meet for the first time in truth? I’m screaming your name but I forgot how to say it. Now I’m stuck and alone, help me hold me I’m home! Ack! Pigs in the garden back to forestry and we’ll need some farming. Holy Moses roller coasters! Great leaping shit frogs! See your wizened eyes align with the blood of the new born day, got rattle snake control and your hip slips quick to mine, making the world right here and now, taking mountains and restoring them to mole hills but leaving them as beautiful mountains, see? Its really sad how ugly a person’s life can get in their own eyes, enough to spread hate like a foul wind, enough to want everyone to have to suffer for the way you yourself have had to suffer, we start out green and make our decay fit with the seasons… but low, hark, a shuffle, a low tick, a sudden thunder in your heart and it starts to fade out, we speak in hushed tones, not so you won’t hear, but so you will strain to listen, and maybe you might just catch a glimpse through the eyes of truth… Do you know why we’re here? Is this the end? Have we begun? Or does time stand still? Some would say, waits for no one, I agree but time stands for man for in time we see a pattern, a question if only for the seeking, deeper than any known, for therein lies the answer which no man may speak, that the love travels blindly but in perfect vision, that the question remains the answer, lest we seek the question for the answer held inside a spiraling vortex we may call home to drone upon, but sweet love, we are all one in the sky, in our hearts why we die, the season to live and know, outward and in, we grow… To live is to die a million deaths or more. Each sprout from a seed will old life at its center while daily death remains a constant cycle. In union we find the love, not petty indulgence, in heart we find the strength, not in guns or concrete, in mind we keep the time, don’t our dreams still make us run? House yourself and your perfect soul, for without you there is no war, there is no death and there can be no peace and no life, here we house the seed that awaits your light and the dawning of your springtime soul. I don’t want to hate anymore, I’m tired of this sick sense, I want to see my mind stretched out on a star where we can see the light we are, I want to learn it where it stands, fuck, man! I just want to go!!! Life is beautiful if you can cut thru the haze to see it. We are just a metaphor for 4 four fore fer everything if you couldn’t tell, We’re all alone together here at this party on the edge of infinity, we make it and we break it and we curse the day we ever saw it, but you know what? We love all just the same, we love the fact that the sick is so strong and the light so far away, our cold calculating comfort tells us where to begin and end as if a priviledge, but there is still a dream alive somewhere in there, where you rarely dare a look… I know not where I’m going, I only wonder why my mind fears it so, the not-yet-known or unknowable nature of the future, the mistakes and learning progression of past, it all wants to run like hell from it all. Self: knowing, draining, conscious, loving, fearing, holding hugging squeezing, destroying confusing misusing producing qwestioning and believing, we are freeing now the lines of this communication for you to see now with eyes not made of glass. 1/11/03------ Saturday, I work now, soon I sleep, softly with an angel’s eye on mine, keep me warm, we’re so far from home, meaning is in construction, verification of the reasoning, certain not we are of our inflections like moons which playing shadows got me driven from the fields, only as alone as lonely, do you feel afraid to call me? Am I who’s reaching? Leaning out a sun-dried eye, cold as I am tonight, I think I can still make out that light… hey man move it, you’re cased to lose it, far frame removed is, up to seem unrooted more the merrier, kiss your lines like feather tines, your feast will make a mouthful… dread your sphere appointment, levelheaded gods approved this, make maybe a someday effigy for a starving mind to find climbing in a tomorrow tree, hectic she sees me entertained by my apathy… I’m a jerk-off. Married me by the full moonlight still it comes to bare, these consequences on me tonight, left alone, I’m scattered bone to crave the might have flown, your headdress on, you graze the gallows with an air rise high on those wings you made from paper mache to arouse some lord for the keeping of your sister in his castle, crave the night air, burn, see the world return so slowly as if magic pulling threads touch each and every head,,, another moody wind creeps my back like despair and my infantile need for a warm teet sickens the supposed adult me, the more mature of my pieces, the bleeding sophisticate seeking the soulful answers to intellectual questions while eating the proofs of the spirit world from the gloved hand o’ man. Trust what will the battered edges of my nighttime, staring into peace with uncertain eye frame… rigid and expectant we doom the flower to dormancy door-mattancy, make believe beliefs I make me out are old faithful, no car for driving, no need for a finding, no matter anytime, no hurt knows truth, no love sees eyes, but fair is the way the world turns, in divinity is justice served, causation demands implementation, the ramifications of a spurious nation… 1/12/03 I guess that’s just my problem, that I’ve got no perspective, Its all I can do to keep from giving up right now is this. My only refuge. And what’s so bad? That I don’t love me, that I don’t trust Her, that I don’t know why? If I am a moonbeam, let me shine in your window, if I am a speck of dust, may I be on your TV screen, so when you watch, I can still watch you. But who am I talking to? About? What is anything in this life? Am I worth the skin I’m stretched out in? Aww, fuck this suicide, my mind has a mind of its own, micro telescoping all over the place with this mad idea that I should be loved by you stranger-than-strangers. 1/13/03 My magic morning moratorium, open up the airwaves for a finer free spin of mind medium, the inner spectrum of the close-range broadcast, set my brain on a telephone pole to send the cook buzz up and over, all along the bright head network for souls to seek, a mirror in your inner ear for eye to scribe… Summer Fall, freeze dried media make me sterile with the plastic static preen e ing . “Certainly the vectors of a circumvented furlong correspond to the diametric operation of a prehensile studabaker.” Translation: “ Of course, the angles of trajectory of a 220 yard deceptive escape match or communicate the completely opposite act of processing or operating an old car that is adapted for grasping.” Now that we’ve cleared that up, enough of the ruff stuff, on to the tuffenuff 1/16/03 day time fast approaches, so I will talk, for the sake of my mind not collapsing in on itself, but time still falls apart and reassembles itself in a strange order just to fuck me up… brain beat, you know, am I to do? As you prescribe? I like to fly. Courting disaster is a fleeting relation, and I fall flat into nothing… create with will, your will create, the substance of our home-baked enigma, a localized phenomenon, so who are we today, someone knew? Or the same old younger baby form of righteousness? Moody stews. Sea abating monotheorists… Surfacing free space sub-atoms return from the face of cupboard madness makers 1/19/03 how lifelike it appears to be, when cold and out-broke we decide to see, sold of my soul inexplicably, torn a piece off and gave it for free, a sense of sunburnt satisfaction, plays on reaction, melancholy thru the best of folly, turn back the tide to the rise of mind ……………… morbid feathers eating measures tread light and long stoolengoidvoidsfoiesfodsfijesoifdjsodifjsodifjsodifjcsknlskdfieoifeoifedlckslkdlkcslkdifsoeifoiefnoeifnoeifnoeifsccneiwpwjdpwqpdjqpqpdjwifeifeifejeieeiwcmwoielwfkekflejfiejwljlfkijslkfjsfkisdlkfddifjeieeifefjeifeiwlfaspowldmwqodkeofjeoifjrirjgiealvmm.slfc;GFEWGGSFWDFREGMJIULYUWfhtrsnhdyukiilk/.;ijhrehgdgsrfthjfhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!ungh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


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