Home is where the heart is.

Can you even hear yourself fucking talk? You're selfish. You are so selfish. You know it, you admit it. You're okay with being selfish. In fact, you bring other people down and justify it by saying someone brought you down, so why not? You want someone to go out of their way, and go so far deep down in searching before you let anyone see the real you? And how far down is that exactly? Fucking bottomless pit. And when they don't reach the bottom, its their fault for not trying hard enough? Fuck that. I used to be the same way and as frustrating as it is, its a wake up call. I remember how I used to feel. Then I remembered how stupid I was for feeling that way. I cannot waste time dwelling on you. I have to remember how stubborn I was and be glad I realized the smut I was sitting in and got out of. I stood up on my own, shook it off, and realized the beauty in the nature around me. And you will have to do the same, on your own. Anger seeps into my eye sockets just from general lack of realization. You're not stupid, you're blind. I remember how great the sun makes me feel, and how liberating the dirt between my toes is. I remember sentence fragments and ending sentences in prepositions. Then I remember how silly everything is. How we over-analyze things that don't have any meaning at all. Papers, words, structure, rules, other people's ignorance. Insincerity oozes out of you as you apologize for something but then just do it again seconds later. Prime time example of a mental block on someone who was never worth it to begin with. I photosynthesize like the chloroplast and I breathe just like any other animal. I mellow out, turn on my art, then make some of my own. I know deep in my heart there is a way to defeat the system and live as we were supposed to. I want to succumb myself into nature and art and beauty and meaning. I realized this week that I don't want to be a machine, or part of one. My body rejects it and so does my mind. Where is my outlet? Where are my wrinkles? How am I here? Somewhere out there, there is a heart that beats in tune with mine. There is a knowledge tree, there is a fountain of youth, and there are time machines. I just gotta find them all. Even if its within the confines of my own patterned mind, I will pacify my desire to dream, my desire to live. You'll just rot in your own smut. It hurts my heart, but it no longer angers me. I'm ready for the world to pick me up and put me exactly where I belong. And I will not miss you.

Money makes the world go round.

This one is going to be different. But in actuality, they are always identical. Pause. Breathe. Remember. Continue. We were Yin and we were Yang and I was intoxicated from everything, including my emotions. Like a bubble map or a flow chart of sorts, I poured myself to her like batter to a pan. She is what I've always wanted. She's the voice of Marceline, the ears of a mute, the eyes of a porcelain doll. As I stumble upon my own reasoning, I wonder what makes myself tick; What makes myself tock? How far can intelligence fill the void of sheer loneliness? The reasoning I have always had has psychedelically transformed into a matter all of its own. Energy once formed is never lost, just transferred. That's a fact; that's science. My neurological tendencies and abominable imagination are being completely wasted within this ocean of stupidity we all live in. Society. Let me allude to a different country of people who are far more intelligent than we. Within its boundaries holds a mind far greater than any other I have seen. And he loves me. They all do. I purposefully take them all for granted in an excuse to hide from my own fears and realizations of the world. He wants me to write a story. That's not what I do. I imagine stories, I do not write them. I feel as if I live in a different plane than most people. I see things from my own perspective. That of which, is an infinite amount of possibilities. No one will ever see things from your gaze, perspective, or heart. How far do good intentions go? I said this was different. Maybe I lied. We all lie. Why are people offended when they do the same thing? I'm starting to feel as if I'm the only person who understands why everyone around me behaves they way they do. Maybe I see things from a different point of view. One day my brain will have reached its capacity. I try to fill it with insight, creepy stories... eloquence from my surrounding neighbors. My head is filled with silly ideas and my own fucked up reasoning for why I do the things the way I do them. I'm surrounded by beauty. All I want to is explore it all as my brain feeds off of the earth. Therein lies my beauty. Beauty that I will share with all who listens.