he didnt like to be mocked he blew his nose in his socks. my hat has someones face on it. can you imagine.. just consider.. who would the soul have been, if he came back as a raccoon that was skinned and his face was now on my head, someone with a pretty face, that took it for granted and made men panic. maybe everything matters, but it doesnt have to mean anything all the time. my dream comes back to me at the start of every new breath, but then its ashtonished by my focus and out it goes and my eyes are forced to balance my feet. im the most imbalanced ive evr been. in my head im doin pretty solid because im learning. but i cant remember anything, i gotta get this outta my system. its much too combusted, i want to be awake, im on an ancient time zone. my body is shutting down. i dont feel unfulfilled about today except for right now. i feel unhealthy. i want to read and watch a s....
two days later i think?:
chels busts through my door this morning, announcing like shes got a gust of honorary wind behind her, that i should "GO GET THE WORLD!" so, after 2 cups a coffee and the weirdest english muffin granola yogurt chutney butter thing i made, i decided to face the bus. went downtown to gather interest of what the protest was like during the day, every face was strange and looked to me like they were scared of themselves. the campers were tense and the park gave no hint of either surrender or passion. got a call from my future and i made a big decision to move out of this stagnant blue machine of boots, and make my way up the white winding stairs to a pink abyss of free human inhabitance. thank you craigslist, youve got good direction and choice.
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