new obsessions of once obsessions. obscene. obtuse. opulent love of obstacles. they give me grace.

3rd planet, is wrong. such immanence is wholly the truth. the universe is the earth.

i have a hungry heart. it wants blood. so i'll hunt. i think this too. i imagined there was a big breeze bending over lamp posts ripping the tin roofs off our shanty towns like bottle caps.

how do you pick yourself up like a new moon. a new light to shine. a new bell to ring when you keep living dark, and think of sad sick things. its the same old story told by a different tongue, life's the optimist doling sunshine and plenty of rope. you conform to the sea, could have made yourself out of anything but you're tired of trying, keep on giving up.

im so convinced, of laughing.

due to its disguise. due to its rise in tides. somewhere some cup is filling up.

nothing seemed more beautiful than sharing our mortality. but no one comes that close to me. i know just what they see, or what i ought to be.
all this thinking's just a waste of time.
yeah all this thinking is just a waste of time.

guess i'm going blind.
this obsession of regression
guess i'll keep re-writing those lines: all this thinking is a waste of time. cause you know somewhere some cup is filling up,
somewhere someone's cup is filling up.