*

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have a pleasant holiday

at some point within today
i developed a love for humans
and accurately communicated with love
understanding a futuristic reality
but denying it pessimism
by playing pretend
and fabricating lovely lives
so there.
on days like today
everything is so blatantly truthful
i can't see shadows
despite the recognition
because juices were flowing
and i wish we couldn't help ourselves
but don't care so much, not much
there is such sincerity, don't worry
think once and finally for yourself
i'm not concerned about now or then,
and there.
each separate moment is far too important
and i wish we couldn't help ourselves.


"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""'''"""''''''''' '' "


everything's caught up in this bluster
november balloons walk across the ceiling-
inch by inch- it's january
blankets blowing in the breeze
we'll all get sucked out that window
i'll let everything go
watch objects fly into outerspace
what am i saying,
they'll never make it that far.
but i like to think they try.

i'll watch that balloon
manipulated and abused by the wind-
best thing ever seen.
maybe i'll get distracted-
let my guard down
and at that moment
instantly be
absorbed by this violent act of nature-
a freak accident
:girl sucked into outerspace.
mysteries surrounding how it is
she made it that far:


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> >> <<>>


pillars of quivering white
i love the light, and objects dancing
a distant and righteous tower
of Babel; forces pointing upward
directing spiritual growth
my nights are black & white
grey is a technicality

a curtain
a veil, guards the atmosphere
making more evident the glistening material
soft and cold, landing on right hand,
holding the deadly and dire device
puff. that is tonight
clear and white
not to be neglected.
i appreciate your eyes.
young blood sees.



*
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i don't even know how i feel about any of these. i really don't. maybe i like them, but i feel like they're rather blah or trite. who knows. not me. today i am hungry, not for food. but i feel a hunger. days are strange. i don't know if i like them either. i'm pretty sure i do. they're better than they used to be, which is for certain. i think i'm just feeling strange about myself. my perspective of my own person isn't what it usually is. i'm very inquisitive of who i am, like usual, but now the questions are slightly different. they feel irrelevant. i know they are. it's easy to ask myself who i am and what i think about me, but impossible to answer. i'm very excited about giving an eight-year-old art lessons, however. i've been dwelling on it throughout the day, and have come up with some ideas. one of which being that the lessons will primarily coincide with some sort of art history lesson. for instance, learning about picasso, his influence and such. i'll keep it fairly simple considering he's eight, but i think he has a good head on his shoulders and is eager to learn. i want to talk about interesting artistic and abstract concepts. and even if he doesn't get it, the ideas will at least he there, resting in his brain. i look forward to it. especially because this boy asks me a lot of questions about gender roles, and that in itself will be exciting to deal with. we shall see.