my stupid brain takes a piece of one sentence and incorrectly fuses it with another. i'm writing poetry to solve my internal problems. i feel like emotions in the form of steam are bending logical transitions of energy. a state of detachment will help me break the perpetual cycle. i will do that once i squeeze my emotions into a metaphysically indestructible compartment. my ability to run long distances never wavers. the time it takes is painful however. i want to either write well or have a meaningful conversation. that way i will be more productive. sometimes i think i'm reading something, i'm thinking, if i'm thinking i'm working = good. i collaborated on jurassic park stories when i was 8 or 9. . . and 'petri' stories, and 'universal soldier' stories when i was a little older. in middle school i played basketball, took piano lessons, drew action/adventure characters, and got into nine inch nails. the frogs in the hospital waved their whiskey glasses unanimously. after three coors lights i feel like writing prose is the funnest. you learn language control. i mean just random stuff. the skater showed his mistakes in his backyard. i can't discover the emotions, and desires of other people from my bedroom. i can loosen what is too tight for you. we're harnessed in to climb some fake rocks. the mad doctor's ideas were selfish until they worked. the way the world's story goes, i don't mind an eternal gum-ball machine. the world isn't a story though. i'm not accustomed to myself yet. the world's a lot of little stories. they talk about the world rhetorically and chase cats with hunger. you go to jamaica if you can't handle
the cardboard.
internet literature
Thursday, January 29, 2009
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