exploring avenues of partial sleep, that destruction that self destructs everything you would cup in your hand. tear my eyes out with the tides. i never dreamt of such temperance. correspondence is advertisement of hale storms coming. alarmists claim it so, so follows gold is golden quietus. im the sunshine on your cheeks. do i make you happy. cause i am a skeleton living covered in anything worth seeing. im the sunlight on your face, do i make you happy? im the burst of blood in your chest, does it feel like living? you were this to me. now i dont know how to say anything anymore. i am in need of violence for vengeance, a fervor to combine the silence of quietus, the friendship of nails and wooden trees, plasticites parasites brought by the rain inside of me, the whole wide world is just as small as it seems from the moon. so ill go there too beauty is the scar that marks your fist from when you were a child. i am too. i am too. sick of the insufferable, dollar bill covered face, dollar bill covered vase, dollar bill covered mind, i need to let you know you are immanent paucity, vaunted indifferently by my messaniac message of peace, just let it be. some of us are born devils, they turn the silver merry go round. some the devils paw clenches your shoulder and turns you to the dark dark miserable mother night with hopes that you too will die. i found no happiness in their lies. oh how we nail eachother to the wooden trees made for you and me, i will carry yours if you nail me to both of ours so you can be free so i can see what its like suffering, apparently, its apparent that i never have accepted consequence, because we float on ok, float on. whats now all of this? you ve got a new world and new words follow coming through the landmines sent to provide weather changes in the happy happy june, indiana spring. i would think you were crazy. but its so cold in this little hospital wing. i'll beleive in anything. ill believe in anything as long as i'll be happy. i counted the plates someone was not at home. i counted the plates, someone was all alone. it was me. i was on the solstice, so its the annual joke.