i think it was stuck in that scratch on the underside of your favourite cd that made one syllable echo and echo and echo retardedly
i stopped thinking
but i did some serious detective work and now my mind is back in working order
lets see i sat in a car for six hours untill my thoughts were severed and i dreamed of becoming moss covered cliffs i dreamed that my limbs became spires of basalt all etched with the aftermath of an explosion. I was fragments of volcanoe without my skin.
it snowed and i slept and slept and slept and dreamed and i missed things even though i like to not get attatched to things enough to miss them. independence makes me feel retardedly empowered
and there were giant fires and we turned off all the lights and talked about what it was to lose our minds and our senses and how much we hate walls sometimes
oh yeah my boyfriend lends me books on psychology and writes the most beautiful music i've possibly ever heard
it kind of scares me shitless a little bit
and of course there were catholics and taxidermists and police brutality still exists and there are still a shitload of people killing for a cause, dying to be the cause because its what they tell themselves they've always wanted
i like to look at the world with my eyes closed sometimes
and maybe i could take your picture a thousand different ways and i could build myself a little crevice in the world wallpapered in polaroids and black and white prints and i could cut my own hair and paint
paint sideways skewed semicircles paint upside down and in black and white paint a thousand copies of the mona lisa im fascinated by the mona lisa why everyone gives a fuck about her self important features paint a study of the light strewn on your cheek a reflection of the space between jail bars between piano keys between the ridges of your spine and youll chainsmoke cigarettes untill we cant see the wallpaper well paint over our faces with smoke spires
my thought process is always sideways
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