I wish I was more interesting. Moreso, I wish I had motivation, drive, a goal ( Read more... )

| | the balance in each creates this | obscure \ symmetry
i will take what is in my right of passage | |
||| | | but it is absurd to think i can settle somewhere new
once this place is finished burning| || ||| | |
| | | |||| || | | ||| | | | |the embers will keep me content

damnit aaron, jen, katie, stephanie, and whoever else is/was sick recently.
damn hummus.
damn people at table 71.
damn shitty tips.
damn damn damn.
damn you all.
I hope this shit-feeling lasts through tomarrow morning, and then I recover once I've successfully missed school.

This is my motivation.
This is my starvation.

I make this, and I can't have both.

Another night blown, but not wasted.
People are so cool and fucked up.
I should go to sleep, tomarrow=shit.
It's cold.

There was a little spider in my bed, I was told it could be a black widow.
No use ruffling sheets.

Goodnight.

but everything so suddenly and spontaneously exists these days.
this misappropriated luck will soon fade away.

Oh man.
Don't listen to me talk when I'm tired.

I think the reason I don't drink alchohol is because I get drunk off of simply being tired. Tonight, a poor fellow witnessed my live cursive/blues/alternative performance of songs about: sardines and aluminum, extrenious campaigns, bones and m&m's, and of course, made up racial injustices.

I'm smaller, getting smaller.
Swept under the door,
Into a new room,
A priceless room,
I sense the door's angst towards my fingers,
But I will outsmart.

The true source has yet to be tapped, so I gather from my environment. And the light is rich in this atmosphere, but I can't see whats right in front of me.

It's the darkness that keeps me warm at night.