I Wrote Whatever Came To Me

Another weird introduction to another weird bit of writing. I wrote this in the span of fifteen minutes, so I guess in that way it is cheap. I liked it however. Unfortunately neither word nor this format can really mimic the shape to it, which I think adds something. Feel free to tell me that it is terrible and that one should not post such silliness.






From this point on may my writing be absolutely meaningless!
Let us revel in the immaturity and lack of complete thought.

Every moment of mine teems with interest.
I do not understand monotony.
I do not understand boredom.


The local homeless man is walking by.
He was here when my first tour of the campus took place.
Conducted by a teacher
And alumni
Who patted him on the back
And asked him how he was doing on that particular Tuesday.
I see him no less than three times a week
I see him out on the streets at night with a violin
I thought at that time he must’ve worked at the library but no.
         


         I smells uppers.
I see it as well.
         It comes in a boy
who hops around the corner
with a nervous smile
and a paranoid speed.

Uppers are wonderful every so often
and never too much.
There is drug etiquette to follow after all.
The smell of uppers is
Boiled liquid,
Cold sweat,
Dry skin,
Flicked ash,
The sight of uppers is,
Darting eyes
Twitching fingers
Sideways smiles
Cracked lips
The sound of uppers is,
Scraping a mirror
Sniffles and Snorts
Scratching away skin
Like the person is being burnt alive.
         
Birds and a leaf-blower.
What an interesting song they make.
Their sweet opposing sounds entangle in the air.
I love nature and nature-state,
I cannot deny the beauty of city.
I am a romantic outside of my era.

Have I gotten Too judgmental?

Too lost in superficiality?

Too paranoid?

My goal is to clean out my energies.
Never forget my soul.
You are a plant.
You need still periods outside.
In order to grow with the earth.

Is it Weird
that I always Wonder
Whether I am
Within the matrix?
Will the screen burn through?
Will this all have been the roll of a projector?
I love this World.
When did I accept my reality?
When I was in pain,
When I was drowning,
Within my own emotion.
The World was so very harsh and a dream…

A dream would have been preferable. 
Now my world has peace, happiness.
It is a hard thing to accept,
it is an easy thing to awaken to
and I am awake.


Sin handlers.
It takes a certain kind of someone
Who knows the fizzle of fire
The darkness of desire
Whose morals are for hire
A well versed liar
Who will always aspire

Not everyone has the proper mentality for the task.
It takes skills. To be a true sinner one must be:
A connoisseur of pleasures,
On all ends of the moral spectrum.



Thank you for reading!
=)