(no subject)

[benjamincorno]

nerf bones. old crispy nerf bones that dont want, but to fly. smoking people in the face, or the arm, and wishing i were not even made of nerf. leaving near-insulation quality dust to be wiped by and away from the eyes, first. than from the cheeks and chin and lastly, the hair. my past inspirations still pinch my current style. i try and get out of my seat to write a song just like this one, but a bit better and for today. i have a better idea than i ever have of what i want to see or hear, and little ability to push something new from me. im a star. someone is pushing playdough through the hole in my chest and i can see i am a star. a real long star. sometimes blue-red, sometimes lots of colors. really i am a plate with a star cut in it, that makes star shaped tubes of playdough real, when the operator pushes the lever. i live in a world that worships stars. i see them often. i feel very far from and dumb about the stars. i feel close to my sore hands that will not stretch in a useful way anymore. i cant pull my fingers apart at the knuckle, with the fingers. my knuckles cannot strech themselves. when is my muscle so bruised no one would buy it; eat it.

sometimes i take shit in through me eyes and watch a dude walk home with a chocolate bar bag and pot pie and a sunday to kill before family guy starts. i dont want to see him anymore. i dont want to taste the bar between my nose and my throat. why is my spit peanut butter esscence.

why have i already grown tired of writing to who?

ben