5-15-18
If I could speak the words,
Play the scenes,
Hit the notes,
Set it into motion,
Would you believe me an artist?
And if I were to
Lie on the basement couch,
Spin records,
Smell rain,
Study mildew,
Stare too long,
And party so fucking hard,
Would you consider me a waste?
Would astral projection remove me
From the tags of actions,
Marking me, deeming me,
Pronouncing my character
Based on other characters.
Remove the weight of existence,
Could I talk of my heart,
Get you caught up in it,
Hold your eyes
Like I dig them out with spoons,
With my body?
Could I make real
The imaginings I take,
And could you consider me
An artist,
Instead of a waste?

Crown molding
Of vines,
I make rooms into hammocks,
Half lit love,
Controller in hand,
Trigger fingers,
But no real matters
Lie in my palms.
Happiness,
Doesn't reach me through the trees,
I stay gray,
I stay diluted
On the forest floor,
Rain soaked soul,
Mixing with the dirt
And the insects,
And the kingdoms and classes and phylum of things that don't even know who I am,
And yet I make sure they sit,
To eat dinner in my head,
Golden plates.
You're the life force,
I used to know my life's source,
More than a stream of
Consciousness
And faded dreams,
I knew the start
All the ends
Gotta start start start
I'm making the wrong
Kind of art,
Wrong kind of real,
Is it the wrong way to heal?
Is there a wrong way to heal?
The dew stays in my lungs,
No showers at the bottom.
I let life walk over me,
Take me
H
O
M
E.
I don't know hom
E.

Purple lips,
Resting faces,
I blink to smear the image
From my head,
Is power scary, to you?
We act on possibility,
We knock ourselves out
Chasing its fullest potential.
Fullest what?
What is full?
Light and the dark,
Is only one acceptable?
And to you,
Was only one acceptable?
You create me a new identity,
Whatever you're feeling,
And where I lie now
Is what you lie about,
But I am no prisoner,
For the prison itself
Is only an act,
A set stage,
And I stopped playing parts,
Stopped playing house,
Went and found the naturals,
Went and found the light,
Went and found the dark,
And watched it all sculpt me,
Three dimensional art.
Letting go,
But how much do I lose grip of?
Put your blood on your hands,
And pretend it was different for me,
But then again I think it was,
And after it, I think too much.

Hang here,
Could we?
Nobody but me,
I float to touch light bulbs,
Pour my shit into myself,
A trade to save,
I come to you
And the canopies,
Tents of colored light,
And I ask you to fix me,
Fix what the other side did,
And submerge.
Let myself sink into you,
A bathtub,
Make a new mold,
Prioritize what I know,
Let go
Let go
Let go,
I promise I have,
That I'll just be fine
When I make money,
When I heal,
When I don't see you anymore,
When I give it time,
And I know these things are only wired
For failure.
Easy to see
I'm like that, too,
Did that shit to you,
I soak myself in remnants
Of what I am,
And it's not the physical side that matters,
Whether I can obtain what's in my head
Through pieces of paper-
It's the fact that they're there,
Unconditionally,
That counts.
    ⁃    (m.m)