Waif on drugs

sanity shatters like glass, melts, coalesces again

my syntax is not all there right now

i am being relaxed, although parts of my brain still protest in their shrill, shrieking, glass-shattering way, in their glass house, in their higher frequencies, on their shorter wavelengths

poetic algebra for self psychoanalysis, solipsistic morning, not going to drink the tea just yet

organic solvent resolved, oh well, i fainted in the shower and got way beyond myself, succumbed to my wilting frailty, negative energy, collapse - easy to collapse, i had no real reason to fight it

too slurred for truth right now, can only behold the routered gemstone of slur truth

how much is left to learn? how much hides in the heaviness of eyelids?

psycho seperated from somatic, mania babbles on to itself, on to itself, still itself, that running tangent - who left the tap running, is there resevoir reserves?

irrational not to ration at this point in civilization but the mania's too strong, coming on strong and keeping it going, a musical festival for 2007, yeah we'll still be around chewing our cud, fertilizing the pastures with endorphin-crusted neurons

possibilities and panic attacks, so many savings of terror, a terror surplus, armageddon happens in my head nearly every day

metabolic life-fighting neurosis is one way of thinking about that thing i can never name, but that's old hat and old school

laughing at my paranoid thought bubble - i won't rail my special prescription - oral could be all, an oral tradition of untraditional verbiage, untreated verbal roughage isomorphic to the morphogenetic field, causing rats to run strange patterns through the labyrinth that no one would ever recognize

i am getting sleepy, faux-lethargy, synthetic soporifia, sophia on the sopha singing my blinking body into a belonging sleep of the just, diving off the crusty cliff of must-have, must've-been, musty doings of to-be-done rumblings of rough and tumble life savings to be sick for the sake of the dao's darkside, to take a light saber in the forearm for vader's redemption

i was never meant to lead the crusade against anything, i'm ready to delcare a truce but i never made a white flag

artist automaton marches off to the beat of a talking drum - christopher denies being high in a jolting drawl but it's a good headspace for a mafia burial, plenty of room in there, comodious coma culture

now focusing takes work, and isn't that the perfect metaphor for this absurd unfolding of my life? how many wrinkly furls left to go? will i ever see the pattern? i guess so, beyond ego, in limbo...

quiet lifting of a cup, can't explain what it means to me, i'll probably lose all curosity about it later, no need to sleuth out the code, it only yeilds the key to one man's trashed treasure.

this cyclobenzaprine, it's quite reminiscent of atropine compounds and just about any sleeping pill.

got back on the horse, even had a new saddle tailored for my wise-ass

but i feel no responsibility to save the world, i didn't make all the mistakes, people who wanted power did

but that leads me straight into another grating duality - i owe a lot of what i enjoy to the cruelest bastards in history

yeah, i think my vision's blurring - i'm a bit out of touch - - - i still remember the heavens and hells my head has made for me - wow, they weren't kidding, this stuff does make you drowsy

i just spent about five minutes staring at the screen - the lower part - could barely make out any details - yeah, that's about all i want to do too - turned off the music, it was annoying - any music annoys me now - it's just not real enough. playing seems out of the question

stared at the symbol for number 6 ...

i don't beat my heart
my heart beats

damn, can't bring myself to write anymore - guess i'll just have to experience