ITDOESN'TMAKESENSEITDOESN'TMAKESENSEITDOESN'TMAKESENSE
Updation. Begin. To start, this refrigerated watermelon sometimes tastes like onion. I wish I had a clear understanding of it all. The time is coming closer, by the way. And my ankles hurt. And I'm shivering as I write this. And I wish for what I've only observed. I'm shivering because these socks on my my feet may have holes in them. I'm shivering by choice though. I'm sitting here in a room with a window open, to hear birds and other noise, and I'm wearing not so much, and it'll all done by choice. When I'm warm on a somewhat chilly day, I start to feel normal, and when I start to feel normal, I start to feel uncomfortable, because the way I see it, I can be normal by myself, or I can be fucking weird by myself. When you're by yourself, why be normal? I still might be the only one in long sleeves on a hot summer day. But that's because I'm by myself.
And my body is sore, and my back feels beaten. The trees outside are just puzzle pieces and for every tree that falls or is killed, every other tree has to grow just a little more, just to keep the puzzle complete. The picture it makes is of God, and she's a real beauty. Wanna kill her? Destroy every tree on this planet. Destroy the source of oxygen, destroy every human being and whatever animals will follow us home and the fire that keeps us warm. Destroy ourselves and kill God. Start with the trees. Tear out your own roots. Forget your culture or your heritage. Forget that you had ancestors. Someone is waiting to tear your roots out eventually. The more I write, the more my back aches, but the more I don't care, and the longer this sentence gets. Understand that there's a source for everything.
There was a drug deal before you bought your drugs and there was a cut before you scarred yourself. There was a right before you made a wrong turn. There was a dream before you bothered trying to go to sleep. There will be a day after this, and it will never stop. Eventually we'll lose sight of the source and make one up. But just trying talking to old trees. Ask them how many times they have been married. They know the source. Do you ever wonder what season came first? Someday, the clouds might fall in love with the sky, and appear blue in the eyes of me and you. But it all starts with a dream, which started with feeling, which started with an interest, which started with an introduction, which started as a closed book made of paper, made of trees.
Goodnight.
And my body is sore, and my back feels beaten. The trees outside are just puzzle pieces and for every tree that falls or is killed, every other tree has to grow just a little more, just to keep the puzzle complete. The picture it makes is of God, and she's a real beauty. Wanna kill her? Destroy every tree on this planet. Destroy the source of oxygen, destroy every human being and whatever animals will follow us home and the fire that keeps us warm. Destroy ourselves and kill God. Start with the trees. Tear out your own roots. Forget your culture or your heritage. Forget that you had ancestors. Someone is waiting to tear your roots out eventually. The more I write, the more my back aches, but the more I don't care, and the longer this sentence gets. Understand that there's a source for everything.
There was a drug deal before you bought your drugs and there was a cut before you scarred yourself. There was a right before you made a wrong turn. There was a dream before you bothered trying to go to sleep. There will be a day after this, and it will never stop. Eventually we'll lose sight of the source and make one up. But just trying talking to old trees. Ask them how many times they have been married. They know the source. Do you ever wonder what season came first? Someday, the clouds might fall in love with the sky, and appear blue in the eyes of me and you. But it all starts with a dream, which started with feeling, which started with an interest, which started with an introduction, which started as a closed book made of paper, made of trees.
Goodnight.