(no subject)
well.
I wish I knew who I was.
Right when I thought he was turning
out
to be somebody I liked well and got
along
with it turns out he was
delusional enough to collapse a lung
and make some poor woman's baby at the library
cry
I wonder if this is all part of
God's Plan For Me
ha.
what a joke.
at least I have all this money now
and I think that's well and good and I think i'll hoard it away
for a while
and let 'em hang out to dry
so to speak
except for
not especially.
just in most
ways.
ha.
i'm kinda beat up over
nothing
as i always am.
have been
was be
will be.
at least the music's still
good.
I think I should drink more and talk
less
even though I was so damn good at talking for a while I
accidentally achieved nirvana.
I said a couple perfect things, I did.
Heh.
I think i'd write a story
if I was drinking
right now but instead
since this is my internet journal
i'll bitch
instead
about nothing in particular.
that's usually what it boils down to.
a chronicle of seven years of incessant bitching.
or is it like
nine now
or something
christ, i'm old
and i've done nothing
at all
with my life.
i'm twenty years old.
twenty big ones.
still can't drink legally though ha ha who's funny joke is that not mine.
I should move away to switzerland or france or somewhere
and run as far as my little legs take me.
from what?
i wonder.
it's funny.
i think i sound stressed but i'm not particularly so.
i usually sound that way.
i usually am that way even though i sound otherwise.
i'm funny like that.
it'd be nice if things worked out
in ways i'd like 'em to
but they sometimes don't
and rarely do
and that's all right i suppose.
i do stuff sometimes.
i swear it on my mother's grave.
o, death
ooooooo, death
won't ye spare me over till a nother yeeheeur
won't ye spare me over till another yaeeeer
well what is this, that i cain't see, with ice cold hands takin' over meee.
i still smell the hospital sometimes.
i wonder about the silly things i said.
why do silly men say silly things.
i said some silly things to the chaplain and i said some silly things to Molly and to Terra, too.
where is my mind.
i left it.
back there.
it's all gone now.
I've wrote some good poems though.
i'm practically siddhartha.
good poems about poems don't count though.
they're about poems.
they're narcissitic little beasts i guess.
they can't be that good if they're narcisisitc.
no i can't spell that word why would you ask me to.
i guess.
it's nice that my mom and dad love me.
that's gravy man.
i tell em so back, it's the nice thing to do.
maybe i do, maybe i don't.
well.
i could do work right now this very minute haha.
instead i'll sleep.
i all got out of my bead to do a write and i haven't writ a damn thing.
ah well.
another wan bites the dust.
www.prodbyleon.tk
I wish I knew who I was.
Right when I thought he was turning
out
to be somebody I liked well and got
along
with it turns out he was
delusional enough to collapse a lung
and make some poor woman's baby at the library
cry
I wonder if this is all part of
God's Plan For Me
ha.
what a joke.
at least I have all this money now
and I think that's well and good and I think i'll hoard it away
for a while
and let 'em hang out to dry
so to speak
except for
not especially.
just in most
ways.
ha.
i'm kinda beat up over
nothing
as i always am.
have been
was be
will be.
at least the music's still
good.
I think I should drink more and talk
less
even though I was so damn good at talking for a while I
accidentally achieved nirvana.
I said a couple perfect things, I did.
Heh.
I think i'd write a story
if I was drinking
right now but instead
since this is my internet journal
i'll bitch
instead
about nothing in particular.
that's usually what it boils down to.
a chronicle of seven years of incessant bitching.
or is it like
nine now
or something
christ, i'm old
and i've done nothing
at all
with my life.
i'm twenty years old.
twenty big ones.
still can't drink legally though ha ha who's funny joke is that not mine.
I should move away to switzerland or france or somewhere
and run as far as my little legs take me.
from what?
i wonder.
it's funny.
i think i sound stressed but i'm not particularly so.
i usually sound that way.
i usually am that way even though i sound otherwise.
i'm funny like that.
it'd be nice if things worked out
in ways i'd like 'em to
but they sometimes don't
and rarely do
and that's all right i suppose.
i do stuff sometimes.
i swear it on my mother's grave.
o, death
ooooooo, death
won't ye spare me over till a nother yeeheeur
won't ye spare me over till another yaeeeer
well what is this, that i cain't see, with ice cold hands takin' over meee.
i still smell the hospital sometimes.
i wonder about the silly things i said.
why do silly men say silly things.
i said some silly things to the chaplain and i said some silly things to Molly and to Terra, too.
where is my mind.
i left it.
back there.
it's all gone now.
I've wrote some good poems though.
i'm practically siddhartha.
good poems about poems don't count though.
they're about poems.
they're narcissitic little beasts i guess.
they can't be that good if they're narcisisitc.
no i can't spell that word why would you ask me to.
i guess.
it's nice that my mom and dad love me.
that's gravy man.
i tell em so back, it's the nice thing to do.
maybe i do, maybe i don't.
well.
i could do work right now this very minute haha.
instead i'll sleep.
i all got out of my bead to do a write and i haven't writ a damn thing.
ah well.
another wan bites the dust.
www.prodbyleon.tk