dissociate from mental shortcuts (the skin were in)

self-righteous

you attempt to elevate outside of humanity. but we are one in the same. by nature you possess envy and greed violence hate prejudice ill-will insecurity romantic wanting shallow pining for that better face infatuation obsession compulsion petty thought petty want desire to be in conflict with something anything everything. The only difference between us is I don't construct an artistic box (i mean elitist hoax) out of throwback materials and old shit filled mostly with fragranced air probably eau de toilette sweat which is oh so in this year and call it my wide open space.

another complaint

Nothing is illuminated. We live in a gray and wavering world where the air we need is thicker than the blood we bleed thicker than the water that pulls and pulls at the tide of my mind and reeks of waisting and waiting. But waiting without any end in sight is hopelessly endless and can shred the rind. I haven't always lived here haven't always kept the little knife or held my thumb in the dike. There was a place way back where the shadows were warm and provided life. But the mothers womb is not like the ever expanding universe and I sigh to discover I can not remit and resume the cradle inside. This is my twilight zone, my mental disorder, my quirk or tendency. Nicely put, a whimsical way about me. Otherwise a swinging limbo, obligatory hell. Not a melancholy soul, pessimistic probably, but realistically so (well there you go). Rational only occasionally, and if nothing else I don't mistake myself for an enlightened or interesting epicenter. Not the self important type whose eyes wander when anyone else is speaking, and can speak an entire conversation exclusively with ones own exhausting lips. But the worst of those is that they almost always nearly only discuss their own self tauting suck ass quasi-humorous (in an I'm laughing at you not with you kind of way) past.

rehash and newhash