places you can hide
there's fire and water. i am finding many qualities between the two elements that are alike. though both burn, one burns on a radical the other burns as natural as human flesh bulbs burst from lust. they both suffocate.
hate and love, though nearly the same, one you have to feel ashamed of, the other you bask in freely, naked and bare, free and shameless.
and you take life styles and test them out. (of course you must find someone to be impartial to either lifestyle being tested, --assume all that has been prepared, that a unbiased professional was found to conduct such a test -- you must have a run-down-on-morals street-rat, and somebody else in the same age range and the same opportunities in life. you balance out concordantly all the questions that come up in the pre-planing of this great dissertation. though this is unrealistic, is it not so that we judge people with all the mind power we have from the day's begin, to the day's end? though all this seems unrealistic, time consuming as the precession of the equinoxes, and far fetched, we do this when we shake a hand, or hear a fart in the stall next to us when we are preforming the same.) you find that no one is the same not at all, not in anyway one-hundred percent ways.
everyday i try to see the good. trying to the best of my ability to retain my idiosyncrasies. 'cause the moment i believe i have all my seams sewn a trail of guts thick like suicide leads the wolves my way. lately life has been the lava lamp unplugged on friendships. i sit up at night to learn who i am without the jocular dandruff of tasteless identifying adjectives riding on my shoulders as i walk through crowds of people who know my friends and consider me so long as i am considerate.
for the two thousand handshakes i meet there is a foul brainless corporation no longer on hiatus but indeed condemned running those arms. the hands are the end of a pipeline run from their spinal column to right behind their heads. controlled by squatters and vigilante peace breakers. i was never perfect and never will be, but i know i reflect my company no matter how revolted i can become.
overboard of all the qualities that mankind would live without is selfishness. we're all selfish to be noticed, selfish to be first, selfish to be full, selfish to be last, selfish to be heard, selfish to be right, selfish to seem pure. and i battle that thought to say this, is love really selfless?
i know it is, but it doesn't always start out that way.
hate and love, though nearly the same, one you have to feel ashamed of, the other you bask in freely, naked and bare, free and shameless.
and you take life styles and test them out. (of course you must find someone to be impartial to either lifestyle being tested, --assume all that has been prepared, that a unbiased professional was found to conduct such a test -- you must have a run-down-on-morals street-rat, and somebody else in the same age range and the same opportunities in life. you balance out concordantly all the questions that come up in the pre-planing of this great dissertation. though this is unrealistic, is it not so that we judge people with all the mind power we have from the day's begin, to the day's end? though all this seems unrealistic, time consuming as the precession of the equinoxes, and far fetched, we do this when we shake a hand, or hear a fart in the stall next to us when we are preforming the same.) you find that no one is the same not at all, not in anyway one-hundred percent ways.
everyday i try to see the good. trying to the best of my ability to retain my idiosyncrasies. 'cause the moment i believe i have all my seams sewn a trail of guts thick like suicide leads the wolves my way. lately life has been the lava lamp unplugged on friendships. i sit up at night to learn who i am without the jocular dandruff of tasteless identifying adjectives riding on my shoulders as i walk through crowds of people who know my friends and consider me so long as i am considerate.
for the two thousand handshakes i meet there is a foul brainless corporation no longer on hiatus but indeed condemned running those arms. the hands are the end of a pipeline run from their spinal column to right behind their heads. controlled by squatters and vigilante peace breakers. i was never perfect and never will be, but i know i reflect my company no matter how revolted i can become.
overboard of all the qualities that mankind would live without is selfishness. we're all selfish to be noticed, selfish to be first, selfish to be full, selfish to be last, selfish to be heard, selfish to be right, selfish to seem pure. and i battle that thought to say this, is love really selfless?
i know it is, but it doesn't always start out that way.