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post here and i'll embed you into some kinda literature, pt II.


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i can do it again if you want ^.^ but this was your old one:

 

even though most everyone sits in front of me i feel i understand just as much. i take the stairwell instead of the elevator because it's more pleasing to hear my feet tapping off the floor and onto every hallway than it is to push a button. then somebody somewhere sighed and walked up next to me, started speaking in tumbling frost filled words that fly out and encrust themselves onto the handrail. that's alright because i don't even have to walk with my hands on it. i hear the click clack of heels times two. i see my breath curling out of my mouth and nose. i feel the moisture on my eyelashes when i blink and they brush against my cheek. i hear the click clack of heels and the droning voice of my company until the stairs crack under us and suddenly i am alone, standing in the middle of a landing wondering what happened.

i don't remember reading that before?

 

umm oh

 

pink lady lemonade & me = not the same person, maybe that's why

 

beautifully written tho

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this one's for roger just cos i saw i skipped him in the other thread

 

oh man i drank too much coffee now everything is fast! fast! fingers on some sorta wheel here

gotta water the grass more often no drink the water more often, lay on the grass, lay off the grass? gotta water everything

i'm picking up dog shit again; it's beautiful outside, the wind blows in just the right direction

today everybody knows who i am!

because i'm the one with the long dangerous hair that lugs poetry around in its scent

i'm the builder and the bearer!

i drive my jeep with a cup and saucer
but nothing stirs harder than the sauce in me, it cups itself, stirs itself

 

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whoa man interesting. It's like it doesn't all that much resemble my life in the details but something about it gave me asmr chills in my head hardcore. Like you nailed the essence or something. It's cool I like it. And really not weird I'm not that lighthearted anyway haha.

 

 

i know it was weird to write! i felt like i was doing something right but wrong idk. wow, cool it gave you asmr that's amazin :3

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whoa man interesting. It's like it doesn't all that much resemble my life in the details but something about it gave me asmr chills in my head hardcore. Like you nailed the essence or something. It's cool I like it. And really not weird I'm not that lighthearted anyway haha.

the more I read it the more I think it could be predicting the future or something in who knows how long
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ayi-



i want nothing but warm blooded connections. to be light.  sleep easy.  know exertion without exhaustion.   i was always real, i felt - with them. even if i chose to exempt myself. i knew it was for the better. people now, most of them don't know how to feel, to let themselves go, their skin trembles for reasons they'll never understand because their rhythms are out of sync with their mental processes. their minds are too busy working the routine that they are terrified to stop paying attention in order to administer to the problem which really, is their separation from the earth. i open a window and press my forehead to the sill.  the wind is cheeky and mild today flipping more skirts than ever; helping the leaves to shed, autumn is about molting and death, a sacrifice to future springs.

sometimes you just need a bed to sink into and a cup of tea to wake up to made by someone less invested in you than you.
look at the world the way we ought to; as a living organism, something we are connected to. beyond the natural confusion of all the lies on the surface there is a molten core, it's blood that loves us, is us, heats us through - but we still feel cold because we ignore it. we wear thicker shoes every year, the money doesn't grow on trees but it is created with human skin, taken from the hands that break open upon laying layers upon layers of pavement between us and the crux, money has done nothing but leave us separated from our real rhythmic reason. we no longer feel the peaceful pounding of the earth's heartbeat. our blood has run blue with underexposure. 

our actions are no longer natural but contrived, thrown together, we are all mistaken children borne out of houses that could not hold us, that never did. we fret and whine and easily bend for reasons that are not worth the effort, for people who are not going to join us.  the catalyst of living: working. living to work. the catalyst of living is nothing but rain boots and left turns.  some left turns are necessary to go Right.  some stuff happened last year some stuff will happen this year.  i felt fond of you for a moment.  

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yeah all these so far are very prescient from what i know and its very impressive that you can do this spontaneously 

 

thanks it's hard in the way painting is hard. i'm not any of these people. it's kind of unnerving to write these. i guess they are all serious with sad undertones cos, can't kick myself totally out of the picture so i'm assuming you're all learning nothin new bout yourselves (which is good cos i don't presume to -know- anyone)

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ayi-

 

i want nothing but warm blooded connections. to be light.  sleep easy.  know exertion without exhaustion.   i was always real, i felt - with them. even if i chose to exempt myself. i knew it was for the better. people now, most of them don't know how to feel, to let themselves go, their skin trembles for reasons they'll never understand because their rhythms are out of sync with their mental processes. their minds are too busy working the routine that they are terrified to stop paying attention in order to administer to the problem which really, is their separation from the earth. i open a window and press my forehead to the sill.  the wind is cheeky and mild today flipping more skirts than ever; helping the leaves to shed, autumn is about molting and death, a sacrifice to future springs.

 

sometimes you just need a bed to sink into and a cup of tea to wake up to made by someone less invested in you than you.

look at the world the way we ought to; as a living organism, something we are connected to. beyond the natural confusion of all the lies on the surface there is a molten core, it's blood that loves us, is us, heats us through - but we still feel cold because we ignore it. we wear thicker shoes every year, the money doesn't grow on trees but it is created with human skin, taken from the hands that break open upon laying layers upon layers of pavement between us and the crux, money has done nothing but leave us separated from our real rhythmic reason. we no longer feel the peaceful pounding of the earth's heartbeat. our blood has run blue with underexposure. 

 

our actions are no longer natural but contrived, thrown together, we are all mistaken children borne out of houses that could not hold us, that never did. we fret and whine and easily bend for reasons that are not worth the effort, for people who are not going to join us.  the catalyst of living: working. living to work. the catalyst of living is nothing but rain boots and left turns.  some left turns are necessary to go Right.  some stuff happened last year some stuff will happen this year.  i felt fond of you for a moment.  

 

;~;

 

I don't think I can find the words to express how achingly beautiful this is.

 

Thank you, so much.

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