mushed up werdz.
some of what i wrote last night. messed up.
Fresh.
New.
Alive.
Awake.
Ready to go
Start it up bitch. Its the bitch the bike, the item, the girl, the motherfucking guy.
Goddamn bitches can be anyone. Its a noun in a way. though also a word. Can be applied to anything-physically speaking.
Thats, physics.
And. Now, gentz. A word is a sound. orgaized sound. And one has the ability to use this organized sound (language) (I suppose) And and apply it to anything or anyone. For example you even have the ability to call a male a she. For after all
its organized sound. There is no law in society that says you cant call anyone something or say what things are what. Now. I feel like
I lost it. Or something. Lost something, man. I feel really messed. Like my brain cells are ajumble
My Brain
My brain cells are a jumble.
Perhaps, a puzzle
Or perhaps, a muzzle.
Or perhaps, a tuzzle
on my wittle fuzzle,
call him my pretty zuzzle.
[describing music]:
Alas! A labortory, filled with doom, and untrustworhty characters. Addicted to something, whether it is some sort of acid , is beyond me. But. It creeps like a haunted piano, a thumping of a giant. A kind rocking backn' forth into the unknown. And hints of daisies in the background.
Hope, Greatfulness and being. A smile. A real genuine smile.
A true smile.
The truth.
In words.
Is what, exactly
So a smile,
the smile,
the true smile
it a-runs a-mile.
And its got un accent-
So dont discriminate
Or judge, narrow-
and hate.
Just love. With the ultamite feeling.
To leave a beautiful flower.
Perched so prettily.
Undisturbed. Absorbing the sun. That feeds its soul.
Makes me smile. Makes me heart beat.
Oh, oh, Lord
what a treat.
end. i didnt really edit anything. judge a few commas here and there.