it's ironic

hope

here is to a year of uncertainty without borders.

less.

don't exaggerate your smile, child

be a fanatic, be wild

flowers fell short from their pedals, all seeds will be spit to the dirt and delectation will not only rim, but saturate the lungs of every wise jovial thinker with each inhale of filtered oxygen; the kind that matters

for many, stretching the mind is a glass of wine never gripped and curiosity begs the hands of their keeper, touching what we were told never to do!

my scattered thoughts bread scattered words, yet your understanding never reached my importance-but what did?

everything that is held behind the eyes 

 

hi(gh)lo my friend

like the time we watched words dive like fireworks off the screen after eating shroom pizza, i'm illiterate to the process of my mind

our bodies are cramped inside the skins of a small tent while chains encircling our foreign surroundings- a world where the trees become our friends and where fires are fountains of stars

two very receptive bodies end the night blaming nonexistent construction for the adulteration of their minds, although the shrieking could never be excused

my mind can beat your mind

only one person knows what i'm talking about

i wonder what it would be like playing tennis on lsd

Minority!

White letter, you wreak of discomfort

bars keep inside a boy in the body of a man

twenty going on sixteen

you missed a few years of sobriety

Your mind is behind

wrapped up between the branches in the tree fort days

what would i know?

Dark concentration on the rear view mirror

could i be the face of a lesson?

couldn't we all?

My preparation is a turn off and it's ironic

because I'm not prepared for anything

Sometimes when i speak, i forget that the only thing open is your mouth

the shoal of a face faulty of its ears and eyes makes poor company

I, however, surround myself with a magic Eden in a carousal of bliss, all within the profile of a beautiful girl

I know what's real

Beauty misses it's crowd and just for a second she's not lonely

but when it stops to rain she loses sight of her own reflection

and realizes even water can become a tease

                     her own eyes have fooled her

You've got to stop playing tricks on me, mirror

It's reminding me too much of a night in a tent where i lay listening to you speak as i watched you diversify into an anteater.

I've been having way too much fun...

It's the golden years

You sit well in my mind, jump well in my heart

we're a kangaroo party until we greet the sun goodnight

fall in love with one another for the moment, hello stranger

say hello to my soul, it's coming out this time around

drop my shy to the floor and greet Spaniards with kisses throughout lovely summer days

Mr. Moon, you're looking pretty tonight

everybody and everything turns into my best friend

I take a picture in my mind because i know I'm going to look back

and wonder what ever happened to what we were

There are somethings that won't ever change

we all still wake up with the ocean in our pockets

and leave our trails of sand in each others beds

Burn memories into my mind, lovely

we're not young forever

Work the mind, my way.

Political pigs, political pigs, I'm interested in people and what makes them kick. There is no rational reason, "he's just the devil himself" or is that just what society made him? Guinea pig, come here and take a sip of education. Filter the mind by starting in the rooms-how about age five? My school reminds me of a cult and i fucking hate it. I'm not even Catholic. Are you working the mind or just brainwashing? I can play games too, but instead I'll just hold my girlfriends hand because i can. Sister, is that okay with you? Tension towers over the both of us, but mines not from lack of attention between the sheets. Unfortunately, i can't burn the words you've read from you head, but i can give you a colored moving image of what make your blood boil, your cheeks red, and you eyes flutter from you disgust, every single day. Remember not to lose your inside voice, we're trying to learn. Give me a few years and I'll show you just what you learn at a fucking Catholic school, but until then, don't hesitate to drop the books your fed. You're all just little guinea pigs.

I'm well!

With your hands stuck in the sand, I have yet to be released from your grip of psychotic mess. Disillusioned senses craving attention and I'm sure you strive on ever word i say. I'm not talking about chemicals or pills-I'm talking about eyes being blurred from coats of lies even you believe to be true. Health, please get back to her.

I've forgotten how to write without thinking and i miss the freedom of every word and movement in each finger. My eyes never seemed to be so peeled with focus to the screen and instead i would lose thought of where i kept them. The reason why I'm so quiet-i never want to give the impression of stupidity, just like EACH AND EVERY ONE of you have. I realize how angry my words can be, but almost everything purifies this emotion.

 Don't forget the good things...

Eyes having affairs with things that are not yours; i write in secrets, what can i say... aloud?