okay. so here is how it goes:

after spending much long nights&sleepless,helpless days it feels like the realization is finally coming forward,with open hands of gratitude&aid. maybe the revelation has come from too much godspeed,too much kava tea at every turn,drunk on an empty stomach always grumbling,and ears too open for the sounds of direction &purpose. an independence from this sort of dreary endlessly ugly days and sad nights spent wonderingWHY with no answer but sleepy voices whisperingmore nonsense than strangled chords.

it's been a lazy sleepy time,it has.

and then one day sitting,no not sitting,standing,or maybewalking or even stumbling&falling, tripping around town and stubbing toes and being a trembling horrid mess in a sweatshirt,and it came w/hands cut off and asking youWHY. why all the shit you go through--put yourself through or get putinto--sprouts nothing from those tiny,ugly seeds of buried dissent&disatisfaction, and worthless effort. there IS no fucking reason,but denialjust won't let you openyour eyes, will it?

I mean,that thing you hear in the way the raindrops fall or that wholly unexpected phone call that after you answer turns out to be wholly appreciated--whollyNEEDED--for some sort of resource of comfort and safety. a little less worry,a little more sleep. a little less haste,a little more time. a little more joy[&kava?no...],a little more calm. a little less anger,a little less bitter/cynical/ungracioustheivery,a little more bright.

morelightfortheburgeoningdarknessenfolding?

more ease for the days when you can't really wakeup?

and so it went like this: waking up cold & alone and wondering why. looking out of a window to see the rain falling,but not never thinking it's time to go. and you've never walked out the doorthinking maybe it's just time to burn down theworld? boomboomBOOM?? it happened/s and they always like to explain with motive but the fact is,all that motivity they assign to every possiblevalue in the world is useless. a little more hope,a little louder desperation, and lot less philosophical shit they keep repeating over&over in your ear to justify the means.

maybe then it is like the skycamebreakingout & a world leftfull of daring &anxious eyes,not tired eyes,or slow sleepy highs,or people filledto the top with bent backward arms&legs,and minds cracked from swinging hatchets and the propaganda spread all around.

you mindlessly consumeuntil you explode,rightRIGHT?

the world has come to an end when you stare down the traintracks &you can't see the fucking headlight through your haze of smog & cigarette smoke & silent fury & deep despair & sorrow & burning buildings. all you really want is that--(ManchesterIn Flames)--but it won't fucking come because the end NEVER FUCKING COMES &all you have left is your silly desire to keep eating.