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Incessant, ceaseless are my mutterings. Mumblings of no worth. Simply enough variation to hold my attention, as I fight to wrestle it back.
I can no longer take it and my hand finds it way to the back of my head. And like glass. the surface shatters.
Below the red wine, I find peace. Muffled, slow sound drifts around my eyes and ears.
My murmers become soft heavy echos, and I may hold my attention to my chest.
I force my head, denying air
This is not a premeditated murder
Ceaseless muttering drove me to this

You're poisoning yourself!

‘Scientists have discovered the consumption of copious amounts of kale can lead to uncontrollable twitching caused by an eagerness to always say something, an enflamed ego and as well as a green tinge to your own billowing farts.’
Everyone loves an explanation or an uncomplicated black and white situation. We can easily rap our heads around such things and make a decision about what is best for us. Such as information like the reasons you feel shitty all the time being that coffee shrinks your skin, alcohol causes your brain to vibrate and chocolate creates a direct link from your cerebellum to the crumbling economy.
People act shocked constantly. They love it. Its like a drug and at that, one as powerful as blind faith, pessimism or meth. It removes responsibility, ornaments reality in a floral dress complimented with a pink bow and calmly makes all your decisions for you.
They cry with astonishment “Gosh! Turns out heroin turns the spleen inside out and replaces the blood flowing through…

Two Abreast

One man walks two abreast.
Unaware of those before.
Thoughts dwelling only on a destination. His mind saunters between himself, dragging its feet. He tugs lightly at his coat. Grey faces mill around as a sea, turbulent and utterly unimportant. His steps falter at times though he travels at a constant. The only constant he knows or requires.
His wake ripples outwards, easing apart minds from their thoughts. Faces grimace at his backs as he lumbers forward. This chaotic ocean seems as but air to him, though he does not breath. The current holds no power on his form. It is but a breeze, and a nuisance.
This one man walks two abreast, unaware, ever moving through our world, blind.

It's Easy to Despair

It may not be healthy to despair, but damn if it's not easy.

My mind often boggles at how little effort is required and how reassuring it is knowing an option is always there.

Even after a long day at work, when my feet are aching and my back is broken. My breath and eyes dry like a desert wind, I still find the energy to simply let go and despair.

Days, years or mere moments.
Any stretch of time will do.
Between catapulting through crowded corridors, hurriedly explaining myself to those around and sorting chaos behind closed yet unlocked doors, i'm never strapped for time.
I always have a second to despair.

And look! No hands!
Even as I ride through mobbed streets, grasp a window to stare blindly through or cling to a cold meal half cooked in desperation, I can still despair.

I can do it at parties, while i'm drunk off the commotion.
I can do it while we speak, as I match your response to those heard before.
I even do it as I sleep, as time laps at my consciousness.


Todays coffee notes

Full body with a strong 'barista wears stretches' flavour.
The farmer was diagnosed with a new incurable disease on the 2nd day of harvest, really bringing out the acidity.
The milk was poured at a height of 1.75 meters, step ladder in use, balancing out the acidity with an excitable sweetness.
A witty sour plum pungency charges through in the after taste due to the waiter disliking your mannerisms and to round things off, a change in political power of the region of growth gives a warm chocolaty 'class war' finish.

That will be $15.67, fuck you

The Perfect Lawn

The perfect lawn is respect, it is honour.
It is to be noticed and to be loved.
A perfect lawn brings light to a neighbourhood.
Your lawn.
They all know it is your lawn.

A good lawn requires great attention and care.

First you must have a spot of your own to grow your lawn.
Why not take someone else's spot?
This is the quickest way.
Though perhaps the path well traveled is to be yours. Take the steps, and with a knife of your very own, wash this road with the blood of others that travel along its length.
Now you stand at the top of the mountain.
Bottle the blood of those from your journey, you will need this later.

Now you may plant the seeds.
You may do this anytime, as with these down lights the sun always shines on your lawn.
Time will pass slowly, as you are excited and drip with anticipation.
Perhaps we can speed this up?
Of course!
Take the blood of those that tread your path, and sprinkle it across your lawn.

Now your lawn has grown lush and lavish, but perhaps too bold?


Some Very Nice Real Estate

I passed some very nice real estate today as I went over the edge.

It had some cars that were faster and trees that were taller,
some ornaments and features that were flowing with water.
I gave a little sigh and let slip a small whimper,
"How nice it must be, through both summer and winter."

Though these thoughts were quite fleeting, as I went over the edge.

And the people inside, although I can't see
must smile all the time, filled with pleasure and glee.
Their eyes never glaze, their backs never sore.
Even their drugs are better and quite within the law.

But I suppose for them, i'm just happy, as I go over the edge.

It was all quite a sight, before me eyes popped out.
It filled me with light, before it escaped with a shout.
Then my heart stopped abruptly in my surprise
at the glory of, over the roof, the sunrise.

As I went over the edge.