you need input to get output

tired eyes, you know how it feels

“how come you don’t speak like this all the time?” an assignment on accessible aesthetics, form and content marked out of ten. tense, since i’d like to see it all somewhere else that looks like here (minus a past or two). have another here nor there take it or leave it. crossing eyes and half neutered, a reptile with hands and no feet.

“you’re a real gem, you know that?” a pathological pacifist. time has been filled but the space remains empty. wind as harassment but how come not at night? electrical storms start skeptical streams of consciousness flooding foolish highways thanks to all the rain. do all things carried by time pry their hubcaps off with forks and knives sometimes?

we spoke of a system of demerits to distract from a decrepit state of humanity - not as a whole but between two of us. other conversations a blur to me all i have on my mind is how many times you called me by name. nervous but less than seems proper, mistaken taking understanding for a mistake, the guilt is not built it is born within and there is no reason for blame. forfeit linear priorities for the din of some sort of cycle.

birds bring forth the sun but how quickly this morning is passing, although my every body part seems to be asking it to wait. just a little more time to rest. to try to understand why my throat closes up while my head pounds, why my dad, at two in the morning lets me in on his correspondence with a woman i knew nothing of on the other side of the world who calls him “babe”. my apartment windows sweat while outside the world reaches its wits end. three months worth of black icy lumps topped with neon blue salt. each worn-out watermarked boot that walks over it forces it further and further toward the ground, increasing it’s denseness and therefore it’s potential exponentially. this creates more and more room between the sidewalk and the sky for small lives to pass through along with large wind, and sometimes, even larger yet, the sunlight. sunlight so far away and so tired that it does not warm much, only briefly, momentarily, it heats up exasperated skin on a face that ages six times faster during these months. a face made up of only eyes framed by bundles of fabric, intensified by the light that reflects off the snow. eyes that subconsciously separate pity and empathy, the too-big, untied boots of the former and the ski jacket rustle and brisk walk of the latter. smells have been eradicated, frozen and disposed of by the biting air itself, save for the exhaust of idling engines. we are exhausted. exhausted of being idle and allowing our ingenuity to slip through the cracks in exchange for older traditions.

i love that blue grey colour. the shape in the middle is ugly. possibly it just has negative connotations. the pile of rocks is orange. the most depressing day of the year. statistics. complimentary colours. downward slanted writing. stop. that smell. i hate that smell. the tone of voice of that man as we walked in. can my pencil be heard? what is this leading to? will it change drastically by the time i look up again? what am i looking forward to today and why? stop. jared’s slouch. keith’s grand but also gentle presence. subtle conspicuousness. jackson pollock and stained glass. polar opposites. polar. colour associations seem so irrelevant. how could one ever expect to get a point across using a colour? using anything really…

fingerprints now. identity. i need a nap. i love the balance and being in the dark. i thought a lot about punctuation today. smoke that was coming out of each floor at that big building being built. not smoke. whatever it is, heat that hits cold and makes clouds. i want it so badly to change drastically. remembering london all of a sudden. the train station. things which do not exist in any time nor place. temporarity as a question. it is hard to always remember all the things you have learned. this does not devalue or add value to anything, it only further explains a difference between conscious and subconscious. i wonder. logic?

came (to terms) too early. nobody any more sick than anyone else. a mind made up; made out to be all made up. you know, pretend. undoubtedly crazy but practical until you begin preaching. one can be creative but many’s a cult and many a time what’s neither is labled an art. add pity per lack of dimension, still arguing that the earth is flat.

embarrassed? embarrassed of what? a life better left to the living. an aside: pushers. a pusher on the side of something a bit more respectable, something tailored, something gourmet. embarrassed to be setting the table for this feast for beasts of stale pizza and pre-packaged treats. in awe of the shrapnel, the wrappers and the nu-metal rappers. the ugliest battlefield that i’ve never seen.

a project on projection: eliminate it. laminate a leaflet for social pocket change. where do you come up with the self confidence to consistently upturn the fragile package that you received on your doorstep by accident? and how did you justify all that junk? at a junction of fractions that no one expected you to be able to rationalize past the second grade.

drive by neon numbers nightly, here in the land of the freeway. to call it home is brave, but refills on distraction are priceless when your tender is paper and your soft spots are hard to find under synthetic threads of slowly passing space, consumed by your meaningless existence. oh say can you see a time after where you are now has forgotten your name and given you the same numbers every night without worry nor will to survive. a third person perspective of a menage a’ trois all to yourself in the middle of of the map where the folds have worn to expose what is imposing as an outside world, one that you believe has the potential to be kept confidential, considering all your credentials, if only you weren’t so afraid.

http://n03113.tumblr.com/

golden food service, bikes for farm animals, things that don't make sense: (and are therefore neutral)

- asking a stay-at-home mom who's kids are all grown up and moved away how her weekend was
- fun
are simple complaints immature and irrelevant or are they impossible and therefore valid?

endorsed parks and recreation, full page advertisements-cum-apologies for patio furniture, four wheel drive to the market, buy potatoes from dirt directly across the earth, boycott trucks and then clean your ears with q-tips. just my luck that other people want to go places at the same time as me.

how do they fill up the skyscrapers?

on the other side of the brain we have: naked body, dawn, litter, and good gracious, the sun rose again today!

did nothing for a long time but gradually grew cheerful. it's fairly optimistic to think that everything happens for a reason. of course everyone gets what they deserve.

are traffic lights as efficient a they could be? what if everyone who tried to build a better mouse trap tried instead to build a better traffic light? or a better relationship with their mother?
what threshold separates a question better posed aloud than a question that makes less sense that way?
how do you play backgammon?
is an osprey as elusive of a bird as its name implies?
what was the exact situation that prompted the invention of a permanent marker?

dead eyes look in to living eyes. don't try to figure this one out. choose your suffering, it will never be chosen for you. grief settles, thick in every finger as well as each lung and the heart, when presence makes you thirsty for your own blood.