obama is mentioned in this poem - it gives you hope that it will be good

we assume that all we see is all there is -

the lesson in the meantime is that we do not know

what we don’t know and never will.

that is to be expected of course...

there was several minutes of alot of sweetness

sometimes we get filled in on a few secrets &

actually know what is going on

i’ve had a fascination with secrets since i decided

i wanted to have some

on thursdays i am too trusting

on sundays i am too forgiving,

on mondays i want to punch everyone in the face

on wednesdays i want to be in the adams family

today i am glad to go to sleep late with a pen in my hand

all the words have bled into letters,

it’s hard to tell if the meaning is still there, tonight,

we are not drunk

perhaps we should wait til morning

to see what happens,

your eyelashes look like a thousand panthers

streched out in the sun

when the sun wakes us up tomorrow

we’ll stretch out into

pillows & get warmer knowing

nothing! and existance is futile and people are

pointless, so why ever care about what happens

obama feels this way also,

but he has a puppy to distract him from his

loveless marriage,

we just have alcohol + pastels

his actions change the world. our hopes change our world.

too much whisky - not enough talking - disjointed writing

but what would you define as “hanging out”

so many actions and words are taken in the wrong context.

everything is the wrong context.

fuck context.

why can’t we just feel in this

nonchalant way and exist in this way...

because aren’t we told that

nothing matters and we shouldn’t care...

i care about you

all of this poetry is subliminal (sublime!)

since cards have been invented we’ve been dealt this hand

what’s your constellation?

i think i’ve seen in before

didn’t you catch the same rollercoaster as me?

maybemaybemaybe

there's certainty in the sky

please let me know why

all cards have certain meanings, just like stars

and just like human beings...

but i can never, ever tell what romantically

drowned lovers want from me

for i am nothing but uprooted and bloodshot

i am very intoxicated

but hopefully you are too

taking advantage is one of my strongest points...

whether connected or misdirected

you mighta heard your lucky number three times

you mighta heard me up close

fuckwards, right?

five all right

backwards, frontwards,

who really gives a fuck

fuck. fuck. fuck. i am very intoxicated.

all i want is either complete destruction of

something beautiful or

nothing at all

everything / nothing

everything / nothing

everything / nothing

everything / nothing

everything / nothing

this momentous momentum is instantly interlocked

what do we do now.

is choice real

are we really that misguided

i feel like a jellyfish in a lavalamo

that has been switched off

and left got twenty years to collect dust

but no one really understands the

imperativeness of situations

this poem is dead

now tell me things

or tell me things tomorrow

galexy ranted, carlin wrote

it was then

this all happened

we fell

i broke his heart

what

and then

beacause of that party

she got caught up

ok so wait,

about that time

maybe a bit before

sh sh sh so

and then

this one he likes

but we didn’t talk.

so much, can we

friends/lovers

this beautiful girl,

he’s so bad

but the difference between...

and he was like

right

you have to look at

this,

right,

im sick.

im just like...

probably a year

and then well. keep

writing,

when does it end?

soon okay.

& slowly society...

but more as like

i’m like nothing

but everyone

else is

something

& are all three years apart,

is this done?

really don’t have a photo

& i wish i did,

were you like

holding hands?

this is one of the big

things.

what we have done

& this has become

very apparant

the last year,

crazy with lies

thats like who

are you

they don’t talk to me

what can we actually do?