(no subject)
Surely, I have things to say.
"And I checked the rest of his body, and sure enough, it too was cold as stone."
So on and so forth. Too many things to do. And too many days going by and it makes me laugh. Maybe a change of some sort would change some things enough to change what I feel. Privately, I am a really funny person.
Like this and like that, a bit at a time, and I just kind of get by and do less and feel the same. Plus, there is always the money. It is so easy to be tired. So easy to spew out catch phrases. And the something something will always something something, so that I something something something. Insert more stuff here, I'll be in bed, kind of sleeping, kind of not. I hope something good comes of this, so I laugh. And you can never finish the nothing, because there is always more and it is very tiring work. Very tiring. In fact I am exhausted, but not really, see? Because of the nothing, dig? I used to know someone who used to say that. Dig. Someone who says dig used to know me. It is all very confusing, if you really think about it. Very confusing. But then the trick is to not really think, but only kind of and not very often. And I have this friend who is actually a stick figure and I think I am too and we are just floating even without the six grams. Blue blue eyes. So it's like, yeah yeah. You know, whatever. And there should definitely be more porn on T.V.
"Lesson Number One: If you don't run them, get rid of them."
I wonder if it is ever too late to become yourself and how people would react and if you would ever know how to stop. Loving is alone. It is alone. And man oh man I sing songs while I sleep. And when I wake up I forget I have a body and I forget where I had been. In the morning there is a moment before I remember anything. Insert, many hours pass, end of the day, yes yes, write something down so you can sleep. Something sometimes means nothing. It goddamned IS good to always be right, and it feels fucking good to win. I triple dared myself. So either way it's my game. Insert, there are too many artists, not enough people. Small world reality. I feel bad about it. But not nearly enough. Or too much. Or something, wait what? I've lost myself. It tickles.
Here we are. With so much I wish I could slice off of myself. In a pair we sat, and decided that we couldn't see what all the excitement is about, but we didn't know what to do with that. How long can you go on before you are forced to make up your mind, we asked. We shall see, we shall see.