dont pay any attention to this for your own good
existentialism (hope for the dreamers)
that concept is like testing (testing? your not a doctor!) the effects of a chemical on yourself (why would you do that if your not a drug addict??)
you swallow (life), and co-habit a body you can still call your own (but not for long, hehe!).
then the effects kick in (forgive me, father), you record the data. (for i have sinned)
"sober" me (sliding doors). "altered" me (sliding doors?)
but in an altered state of concsiousness, how can you be sure that your former presence that entered the "endevour" (keep on pretending that words are agents of justification) is still overbearing?What if your'e not sure? (are you this indecisive in the workplace?) worse yet, what if you are unaware of any change in character that has occured?(what..did you black out, slut?)
our pixels are linear (huh?)
strings (hahahahahahhaha)
letters of the alphabet (names, numbers, addresses...mothers first reaction is to count the fingers and toes)
but humanity is grit, we are not made to harmonize
"sometimes......"
its like writing in a journal (often, people just sign their names and disappear)
the me that was me that was me that was me is just a chain of adenine and guanine and the other two whatever they are's (nucleotides, stupid.)
always a code for the you that inhabits houses (archetecture confines) and visits supermarkets (so we reload in time intervals) and parks ( family units) and beaches (salt water soothes the throat) and museums in afternoons (for when you cant scream too loud)
. but never a language that you can learn and apply (its not cost efficient....(don't you want public education?)
a single cannot procreate (replicate)
so basically its like sliding doors (and im still angry because i know that the father to my candy colored oderless/tasteless life thats slipping between the cracks in my therapists sofa is HUMANISTIC psychology)
where one side got lifted up a little bit and shifted over a few inches (mother's to blame, i guess.)
you get that uncomfortable feeling of confrontation without the satisfaction of being face to face (you always miss yourself, dont you?)
shadow up against shapeshifter-reflection (and your a protoplasmic kiss)
no, shut up!!!! your heart just doesnt want to accept your bodys certainty (your (soul's) the synaptic gap)
that concept is like testing (testing? your not a doctor!) the effects of a chemical on yourself (why would you do that if your not a drug addict??)
you swallow (life), and co-habit a body you can still call your own (but not for long, hehe!).
then the effects kick in (forgive me, father), you record the data. (for i have sinned)
"sober" me (sliding doors). "altered" me (sliding doors?)
but in an altered state of concsiousness, how can you be sure that your former presence that entered the "endevour" (keep on pretending that words are agents of justification) is still overbearing?What if your'e not sure? (are you this indecisive in the workplace?) worse yet, what if you are unaware of any change in character that has occured?(what..did you black out, slut?)
our pixels are linear (huh?)
strings (hahahahahahhaha)
letters of the alphabet (names, numbers, addresses...mothers first reaction is to count the fingers and toes)
but humanity is grit, we are not made to harmonize
"sometimes......"
its like writing in a journal (often, people just sign their names and disappear)
the me that was me that was me that was me is just a chain of adenine and guanine and the other two whatever they are's (nucleotides, stupid.)
always a code for the you that inhabits houses (archetecture confines) and visits supermarkets (so we reload in time intervals) and parks ( family units) and beaches (salt water soothes the throat) and museums in afternoons (for when you cant scream too loud)
. but never a language that you can learn and apply (its not cost efficient....(don't you want public education?)
a single cannot procreate (replicate)
so basically its like sliding doors (and im still angry because i know that the father to my candy colored oderless/tasteless life thats slipping between the cracks in my therapists sofa is HUMANISTIC psychology)
where one side got lifted up a little bit and shifted over a few inches (mother's to blame, i guess.)
you get that uncomfortable feeling of confrontation without the satisfaction of being face to face (you always miss yourself, dont you?)
shadow up against shapeshifter-reflection (and your a protoplasmic kiss)
no, shut up!!!! your heart just doesnt want to accept your bodys certainty (your (soul's) the synaptic gap)