ape graff, originally uploaded by Jello Prism.
A mechanical bull of a mind; its something special to try and ride-
whatever makes you happy I guess.
There is a feeling like a nostalgia but maybe more like nervousness
to the "Where do I need to be"ness
- some say creativity is a burden-
-as is sensitivity-
I sometimes want less of it, hopefully in a good way.
Forms keep changing and content stays the same.
Its like trying to read the story on scraps of paper in a hurricane.
Critical distinctions are often not useful when it comes to being open to experience.
Chasing ones own tail turns into a stale prayer
to a self you have elevated to godliness it never earned.
I was in focus once but for some reason it melted.
I keep coming back to that memory of an abrupt fade in attention at 13 years old
where my sense of focal length in my perception of the world narrowed
and the brightness became overwhelming.
whatever makes you happy I guess.
There is a feeling like a nostalgia but maybe more like nervousness
to the "Where do I need to be"ness
- some say creativity is a burden-
-as is sensitivity-
I sometimes want less of it, hopefully in a good way.
Forms keep changing and content stays the same.
Its like trying to read the story on scraps of paper in a hurricane.
Critical distinctions are often not useful when it comes to being open to experience.
Chasing ones own tail turns into a stale prayer
to a self you have elevated to godliness it never earned.
I was in focus once but for some reason it melted.
I keep coming back to that memory of an abrupt fade in attention at 13 years old
where my sense of focal length in my perception of the world narrowed
and the brightness became overwhelming.
Straight away a fine scent hits
makes pulp stain and remakes hits
from pointless pleasure centers of emotional
commerce, playful pleasantries taken,
unfortunately but not overly considered, wrong.
Who keeps coming by, stealing conceptual chickens?
They'll come home to roost for them and the best of them to boot.
makes pulp stain and remakes hits
from pointless pleasure centers of emotional
commerce, playful pleasantries taken,
unfortunately but not overly considered, wrong.
Who keeps coming by, stealing conceptual chickens?
They'll come home to roost for them and the best of them to boot.
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