word spew

technicolor

Posted on by troutpasta

A bottle of wine
this is a gift with an obligation

you want to eat my brain with a spoon,
afternoon soup to evening

the stars are dim and blurry, entire
galaxies smudged

I told you I want to be sober next time we meet
the soul is so much sharper then (maybe you
didn’t want to be cut)

handle with caution.

I throw myself at this existence.  lemmeatim lemmeatim

Don’t mind me.

Real life when we talk.  A buffet of layers, I want to
look at each thin husk as it peels from your body, read the
secret meanings hidden there.

tell me, tell me, tell me..

the words that catch the tails of actions.

What are you here for?

How are you finding this universe?

11/22/63

Posted on by troutpasta

possibly I am not happy unless I have a series of minor crises to disentangle.. All I do during the good times is wait for trouble, or pretend to see it in the clouds, the opposite of a castle, waterlogged cardboard box-thoughts, skewed reality.

When I was younger I thought “it’s all downhill from here” meant something good, like in sledding after you’ve trudged to the top. And now the deity in my internet is saying it can mean that the bad times are either over or just starting or ( potentially both…)

I crave the easy and comfortable but my mind turns traitor against my body when I finally arrive there.

Somewhere along the line I taught myself that I wasn’t allowed to relax.

11/22/63 is a book by Stephen King that I am currently reading.  Also. A show on Huuulu? I believe.

It’s good.  DUhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.  It’s Stephen King, so, like a Thomas Kinkade painting, you pretty much know what you’re in for.  But the unexpected is still unexpected.  Unlike  Thomas Kinkade who doesn’t put evil clowns and time travel into his paintings.  :/  Some would say, unfortunately..