Archive for the ‘Mary And Her Sister Jane….And Their Cousin Fungi’ Category
¡NO TIME! to initiate a thought process.
∞(.I see you.)∞
I suppose I am happy here. I suppose I belong. Bright moments contracting dull.
Life is art and I am the artist. Crouched behind that big wooden easel.
…with so many colors.
So much FrEeDoM.
Mind racing (racing) with opportunity; fingers can’t keep up.
Perspiration via motivation. The cologne of accomplishment.
The paper softens as I progress. Happy mistakes litter the page now.
Along-with-hundreds-of-inches-of-leeway. Ahhh, leeway.
My brain seems…bruised…with numb surprise.
Cleverly disguised in white, I suggest, ‘Perhaps, a different wardrobe?’
Everything just sort of connects/blends/combines.
I’m left to smile at these results.
Today, I cannot STOP smiling.
All this awesomeness is making my face hurt.
=] ♣ [=
Once upon a time black was blue.
Numb thumb, knuckles throbbing.
Palindromes of high heels and closets of Monte Cristo.
Writing page after page of premature nonsense.
Stargazing between asterisks paneling the pressures to tailgate yer fears.
I’m trying to see past this, I really am.
Greet me in the positive vibe, please.
Kicking back stress and nausea.
A casual me; high.
Cloudy eyelashes breathe complexity.
Tracking down silver tipped pinecones and rotten bee hives.
The lack of weaponry proves unnecessary in the harvest for helicopter blades.
Like, what if finger food was hand supper all along?
Crazier than armless ventriloquists with no vocal chords.
Tricks of the trade, come here reason. Poisoning kung fu ninjas, citrus oranges-r-us. Dickin’ it up down here and if you can’t figure that out I oughta nail you a sucker punch to the soul. Sticky fingerprints are good people; I’d be the first to hang out with em’. The clouds gather mouthfuls, they mesmerize with lingering shadows. Kissing the flame, the fire tickles my teeth in extraordinary fashion.
I know you crave that quick dip to contentment, like forcing a fading firefly to flash to exhaustion. But I ask you now, is it truly worth it? Put life jackets on swollen ankles and they float, they do. Attach some Velcro to garage doors and you got yerself an outlet. Nice hands, feet. It might take a tad longer on yer face though. Fuck. Now I smell like kickers and cooking spatulas. Fog farts due me in; they’re treating me to a four-course smoke session.
Learning the ropes of laughter, I have the power to stop. But of course I refuse. Hit it, suck it, smash it, repeat. Singing to keep warmth, boxing words in an overwhelming vocabulary of slurs and unpunctuated sentences. Shit baby, we’ll fight to six rounds, some pushing seven. An orgasm of inspiration, my bones turn tingly. RIP for now, but I’ll see you tomorrow. Apples and tomatoes nuke bananas, don’t they? Haha, yes they do. We’re good, yes we are.
My feet feel like tiny toddlers are living in the nails of my toes….they just keep shakin’ their rattles, and with every one of those shakes, my feet will twitch in response….I love it….it’s like when the doctor whacks you in the knee with that triangle shaped thing, and you sit there and giggle silently to yerself cuz hey!, you suddenly have no control over yer leg anymore….ahahaha!….awesome awesomeness….
My legs don’t feel quite as tingly as my feet, but they’re sure as hell tryin’….seriously, like a huge tingly sensation knots in one place inside my calf and it feels like its gonna go allllll the way up, but then it just stops….it’s craaaaazy….
My fingers like co-ordinate with my ears somehow….because I’ll sit here and find myself typing along with the drum parts of songs in my headphones….its hard to keep up with some….for example, I have “Live Forever” by the Oasis playing right now, and I’m ‘typing’ to the cymbal in the foreground of the song….every letter = one strike of the cymbal….it’s actually really hard….
My skin feels like there are millions and millions of ants doing push ups simultaneously underneath it….an army of them….just all lined up directly under my skin….with different ‘pushup-timings’ so it gives me an ocean wave pattern of feeling in my upper arms….omg, “Pattern Of Feeling”….awesome band name….
My brain….o man my brain….haha….so far up in the clouds right now, it’s incredible….shit, I’m LIVIN’ in the clouds right now….reality is not for me….people say that I should come down, that the clouds are not a place to be….I smile at them….maybe one day, I say maybe one day I will come down….but I never will….reality is not for me….I shall stay up here….the view is quite breathtaking….
Floor patterns connect with the ceiling in coinciding magnetisms. I try keeping my focus, my mind wrapping itself around this paraphernalia of calligraphy I hesitantly call writing. Do I tend to stutter when I talk? I must. Because no one in this general vicinity can smooth out my vocabulary quite like they should. It’s like patiently sitting on the stove top with a mouthful of cold water, turning the front burner on high, and waiting for that water to boil. Fuck.
I smell feelings….and I feel color….slingshots of ammonia launch airborne crashing violently into flaming cupcakes….I think god’s in the fan blade and can’t get out….somebody oughta help him….nearing blue escalades as they tiptoe down steep stagments in time, I’m left to wonder; who dimmed the lights and where are all the goddamn blankets?
I’m just telling you how it is….but it’s weird cuz I know yer not experiencing this experience from my perspective….it’s that feeling you get when you feel yer gonna feel a feeling you’ve never felt before….but yet I can’t explain it….I can’t explain ’my perspective’….one of the unexplainables in life….like some of the shit people find funny….they don’t know how or why it’s funny, but it just is….
There’s a light show going down in my head right now….little neon aliens are up there, I fucking know it….camping out behind my left pupil, they see what I see….sucks for them though cuz I used to see my surroundings in pixels….but that was like an hour ago….now I just see colorless bubbles….like portions of achromatic clocks stuck in these tiny soap bubbles outlining my brain….or what’s left of it anyways….haha….
I was lying on my side earlier and for some strange reason my eyes started burning, so in turn they began to water….there was a tear that got stuck on the bridge of my nose….it was so fascinating to me cuz whenever I looked down at it, i could see the reflection of my eyes staring back at me within it….((I can only imagine what the onlooker looking in must have been thinking….cuz of course in order to look at yer nose, you gotta go cross-eyed….so there I was on the couch, cross-eyed giggling to myself….hahaha!))….but then it eventually rolled away….
Shadows are orgasmic at this stage….orgasmic shadows….jesus, I’m fried….however, I must admit….this trip just keeps getting better and better….virtual reality without the expensive hardware….
Inspiration is a whore, a classy one at that….she’ll give you what you want, but’ll take nothing less than two Jacksons and a fresh bottle of Malibu for payment….I met her on a cold metal park bench three years back….she was preceding to cut a soggy piece of Big Red in half with the handle edge of a butter knife….”Why so complex?” I asked her, puzzled and perplexed from all her unnecassary struggling….she ceased her cutting and looked through me with a pair of black and droopy eyes I had never seen before….”Fuck simplicity,” she whispered, as she quickly stuffed her belongings into a small brown sack and took off northbound for the subway….I never saw her again….
Penetrating passion through poised paralysis, I weave my ways….the darkened barrels of chocolate horses crusade their ‘neighs’….I love rhyming even though that one was quite pathetic….fingertipping the vowels and fist pumping the consonants….sex with words….but not vice versa….
But now they’re in my head and it’s bugging me….the fuck did they get in there anyways, and when are they gonna leave?….hopefully the table was set….and the forks weren’t sporks….nasty sporks, I fucking hate those things….
Offset syringes breed half-empty shelves of tapioca pudding….my wheelchair’s ascending the onramp now, decorated in pink glass and dipped in caramel….I have yet to second guess myself on these expeditions….I trek through mountains of loaded memories and caves of deep confusion….but I never misspell and I never stop….
Another wave is sneaking up on me….I can feel it….but I don’t know….I don’t know if I’m ready yet….but fuck it; I am….I always am….
Damn. I am quite deep in the clouds right now. Haha.
There I stood in my pink mocassins, clutching closely what I had left in life. The glowing numbers illuminated my right cheekbone as I blabbed on about something I knew for a fact she could care less about. Zipping my mouth shut with my index finger just made her more angry. I would’ve settled for the slow-motion eye roll, but of course that meant losing. And I hate losing. She rose to her feet at once, attempting to throw me a shaky left hook to the mouth. But being the frail skinny Mexican that she was, her grasp shattered into a million puzzle pieces as I devoured her punch, wedding finger and all.
Dude, weed is so awesome. See, this is why I enjoy it so much (read the nonsense paragraph above a few more times). The heightened want to write, the random shit I find myself writing about, the happy-go-lucky feeling behind every single thing I do, the ability to create without having a mindset for mistakes. Happy mistakes is what I’d consider them. The paranoid points, the thrills, the risks involved. Fuck, I live for that shit man. That’s a high right there and I don’t even have to be stoned. Haha.
What’s the most legit reason why I smoke pot? That’s a hard question, it really is. Got an answer though. Because I wanna experience heaven before I die. Yup yup. And I have man. Fer fuckin’ sure. I seriously laugh so incredibly hard, and then crack up even harder cuz I’m laughing at how hard I’m laughing in the first place. Haha. Amen.
We are going to review. No medicine to swallow. Taste is a crazy 5th sense. Shades of hunger prove hard to swallow. I’ve got to tell you something. That echo has been there forever. It lingers like the smell of kettle corn popped in a room 8 feet long by 8 feet wide. Just always air-raiding yer nose. No smoke has touched these lips since yesterday. Haha, who am I kidding? Smoke doesn’t have a certain place it can’t go. It’s not water or air. So it’s liquid air? Holy shit, awesome band name.
Uh-oh negative. We don’t want yer fuckin’ money. We want yer pity; we want you to show us just how low yu’ll go. We feed off that shit. Spill yer deepest darkest secrets locked far beneath that shifty skin of yers. You sneaky prick, you won’t get far. Yu’ll die before you even come close.
The clouds travel so fast these days. They never stop to enhance the five senses. The five senses. Hope, dreams, people, imagination, and happiness. Caught on the tilting force of time, he carefully stradled the minute hand, determination for survival thundering through him. The world couldn’t and wouldn’t understand or even begin to grasp the twisted thoughts that ran within his evil veins. Cucumber melon streaks soaked deep. Suddenly, he wasn’t running anymore. He was alive. AND IT WAS THE BEST FEELING IN THE WORLD.