(no subject)
When I was born and bored I was full. When the cognizant world bloomed around me all I saw was mystery. Childhood was a Muppet noir with a Yoko Ono score. Spirits were everywhere and the walls were gelatin. Beauty was an irretrievable path but somehow the most important one to walk. When I looked at beauty, closer and closer every day, it just made me more aware of the crushed valleys of pain swallowing up the nicest things, it seemed like beauty wanted to be trampled. Orchids begged to be crushed. Beauty was impenetrable yet it was everyone’s sketch pad. Beauty was crystalline water glasses waiting for kool-aid. Why would I want to be beautiful? I decided to turn myself into nothing but it didn’t suit me. I was so naive. Stupidity evaded medication. So long trying to be something. Trying to make other people see something. Beyond everything into nothing to the place that I thought my soul dwelled. The microscope wasnt focusing. Or maybe I wasnt using it correctly on purpose because a part of me didn’t want others to see. Duality succeeded therapy. Now I realize that they are all been preoccupied with the same thing I was. Everyone is walking around with a mirror to their own face, thinking they can control reality, or at least ignore it. So fixated on others that they become forever alone. I would like to quit smoking and smash my purple diamond shaped compact on the dirty concrete. See me for who I am. Look for me invisible. I know you never will.