Everything that doesn't exist I miss. I'm a hundred places at once, except here. Accept her. Isn't it just? Delusions? It doesn't matter, it all is moving. It moves me, stops me up, and then I'll never start.
Some tait hurts. Some tait heals. For real, with a z, I'm the only place that exists in my mind. Now, I'd like to exit, but as fast as I can run past it, I'm still presented with this:
Stay in the groove long enough and you might end up in a rut. If you're in the trenches you shouldn't put posters up.
I hate my phone. I didn't eat alone today. I didn't eat it all.
I wish I could live life in one moment. Conjure it up and go, super nova. But for now I sit in stasis, stranded in paradise. An oasis playing bad music. Do you want sustenance, or a nuanced existence?
I have scores of journals filled with shit like this. I'd love to make it public, but I know they're still spying on me. Preemptively redacted.
Fits that if I could spell it all out, I'd school you on work. Work you through school. You'd quit your job, live with your parents and enjoy it. Hone your instincts.
Instincronize yourself you beast. You're just a monkey with words. You could be an artist if you'd learn to exist. Humbly have a hobby.
Want more word salad? I have more here, then I can eat alone.
Oh, I also put up pictures of the Peel tour on Flickr. So I haven't totally lost it, yet.
Labels: wordsalad
