January 17th 2018 at 5:46 PM

Let me plant kisses on ya body

Call it a garden, seeds for nourishing

Pardon me, been talkin to you in my sleep

Send a message via dream

Steep in me, sweet jasmine tea, cup warmth and company

Steam, Sedona valley heat between sheets

Stop the hands on the clock face to facing

Intimacy noticing stray hair, cracks in red clay skin, wabi sabi inter-twining days on end

Until then pretend under blankets’ weight waiting,

Comforter, comfort me

February 18th 2017 at 4:30 AM

I'm talking to a girl I used to love

I told her it was everything about her that amounted to her radiance

It was selfish of me to want you this much

To never experience love in its diversity

I wanted to be all the diversity you needed

Which was fine when it was pure but I left you in Sayreville, New Jersey

I am sorry

I do understand your resentment

I am patient and calm

Deep down

Buried beneath insecurity and the feverish clinging need for your attention

I never wanted the game

I want limbs intertwined, heavy in comfort

Ours

My therapist told me to let my tension go in one body part at a time and poof I would feel present

I want to let go of each one of our problems, each sentence we never said to each other because we needed to type it out, until I'm limp in the present, anxious of letting go but falling asleep anyway.

I woke up in two different places last night and faced the disappointment of your missing body twice

Limbs intertwined, heavy piled in comfort.

January 24th 2017 at 5:40 AM

I've been monitoring my behavior and choosing to challenge myself in ways I became used to being lazy. Don't write it down, try to remember, try to make it tangible later, hold onto it.

Take note of what you're doing and what you want.

I am going to design an image of a mismatched face, trying to articulate feels like pulling a bouquet out of my head to have it die in my hands.

I'm in the process of making art that's what my life and primary state of being is going to be so I can find an air of sanity

I'm speaking in my various selves all created in the separate floating headspace has crafted like the timeless start to a galactic orb floating around its counterparts

I think word is death of idea

Label is death of concept

Explanation is death of art

Articulation is not intelligence unless intelligence is the measure of conditioning

I thought it was creativity

I hear melodic experiments over the lines "stream of consciousness"

Stream of consciousness

Something about being high makes me feel a prophet whenever I can get a thought out

Maybe this why drugs are associated with religion

How fucking ridiculous