abstract

the glass it breaks to form a seamless picture. and the stars they glow to create the dark. my hands are broken, so they must create. and my legs are shakey, so they must run. my mind is racing yet my body stands still swaying to the sound of nothing. i feel as though im in the womb. warm and safe yet knowin any moment my time is to come.

"for what, for what?" around and around. questioning the realness of it all. sanity seems so close at hand yet too far to grasp. or is it the one who questions herself the one who is fully there? warm and safe, fully provided for. why would i want to leave? besides it seems my head has gotten too big to actually fit on its way out. "for what, for what?" around and around. space and time what effect do i have? a ripple is not much in an ocean. yet the wings of a butterfly can melt my butter.

it always seems to be the unexpected. but im expected. not great not small, just an average drink. a lemonaide made from the orange tree. the more we grow the less unique. shant it not be the other wayeth around? no alexander, no napoleon. more like the bug that sits in the dirt. wash me wash me. warm and safe, why would i want to leave? especially the expectedness of unexpectedness in me which cause the wings to freeze my butter instead of melt. what cookies can i make then? certainly none that be good.

skinny, boot, or flare. which be i? the long and short of it. the fullness of time in which to complete the emptiness of me. how long does it take to create nothing. how much longer to destroy it? pride b the downfall in which ive stumbled asceticism the noose that strangles. the pendulum not slowing. a law that is seemingly broken. slow down would you... SLOW DOWN. ha like the words of the sane work. sense does not catch the attention of the people or dogs anymore. unless of course its the smell of food.

whats this womb in which i lay? in whom am i a part of? do u kno where u are. or is the milkyway the candy in the sky? the places where you swim to tell the world ur love and sorrow. drip drip drip. i very much dislike the kitchen sink. nothing i do seems to work. grab my attention hold it... break it. but that is one thing you do not have to be told.

blurred... the vision that is. and its not just my glasses. though peanut butter and jelly have seem more clear to me than these. can i trust the world beyond this? i must mustnt i? i think i may be getting a little too big. all that excercising for nothing... or is that my problem? bulbous head wont fit out. pop this pimple. let the grossness of this worlds truths puss out and cleanse the pores in which i allowed be open. nastiness. like the tick on my dog. the one i cant seem to get myself to touch, so the bigger it gets, the more it sucks. maybe just maybe soon it will pop itself. ha unlikeliness of that. a better probability to live in the ceiling fan and sleep on time. not through but on.

what is the reason? "for what, for what?" around and around. what possibility? what likelihood? does a frog have in turning into a prince or bridge troll singing like a princess. could the hands that arent broken paint as beautifully of hands that are? of course, but it would not be as great. i want catastrophy yet the world seems to b endless in supply. i should not pray to add more. what work do you have planned? will i be satisfied. or should i continue to stay the size i am, i really am quite comfortable in this womb. which is better? vision i do not trust with the hope of greatness. slight hope. one that is filled with fear and great promise. or this place built for safety for the infant i want to be and seem to be and am.

an abstract mind racing to speak its truths, but are they understood. written on the pages of the ancient tree my name carved into its bark. the pot, broken and chipped. is a cup still usable if the crack goes all the way through? what can i hold. a ripple in the ocean is not much, but the wings of the butterfly can melt my butter. when the glass is whole i can see the brokenness. BREAK THE GLASS. and then mayb just maybe a picture thats whole will show up. block out the stars so the night doesnt look so black. or should i ask more stars to come out and play? my heart does not know. i know comfort which is fading and confusion which seems lasting. i know the creator of all good things and things that are good reflect him. okay i see the light at the end of the tunnel. i think i'll go for it. birth me.