talkinbubtitles

There is a feeling in my stomach that I can't just describe to you. There is a feeling in my stomach that I just can't describe to you.

You can't just write. You can't just tell yourself you're going to write a book or a short story, or something profound, without real experiences. You have you live poor for a while, you have to hurt, like you really have to hurt in order to write anything good. That's the biggest misconception, so many people, including myself, just want to write something from the top of their head. But its all been done before and better.

Brick by brick, I built these walls; this house. My fingers and sweat and nails and blood and hammers, forever pounded an uncountable number of drums beats, the sound of metal on cement, cracking off debris that slowly floated in a powered mist towards the ground.

you see, tonight was the first time my dad told me he enjoys talking with me, i mean he really emphasized it, and i felt he actually meant it. he told me he likes hearing my viewpoints and it makes him think of things in different ways. do you know such a feeling?

Are you a happy person?

You two shower in paint and create breathtaking murals of the sun and love just by walking
But the paint is drying,
And your pores will clog and you will die soon
And your murals and suns and love will crack, just as your bodies do
And the slightest touch of a finger
the softest kiss of the wind,
will send you on your way.

Whenever I go back
i'm reminded of my father
and failures
and the 1980's
and post industrialization
and hair wigs
and what the australopithecus’s bone structure was like
and my father
and failures

Let your mind wander.

I fell backwards and softly embraced the grass. The blades stung my arms and lightly tickled my neck and ears. However, this soft green cushion was not enough for I felt all air slowly sneak out of my lungs and body.
Every thing compressed. But even in this moment of panic I was not panicked.
I let time pass, and after minutes I could not decide if my eyes were open or closed; but it didn’t matter. I just lied quietly in the grass and was comforted by the explosions in the sky, as they got larger and louder.

The foul smell protruding out of the doorway must be milk, or stagnant water from the 1800s
The kitchen sink exposes a life of soggy cereal and mold
She was found face down in a puddle of herself with a chipped tooth
May you rest in peace Mary Dunlap.

i competed in a poetry slam tonight. shit was straight ridiculous

i was at bens house earlier this week and he showed me a piece of paper. it was a list of things, maybe about 15 sentences, but one particular sentence stood out. i read it a few times and i feel it really transformed my week. for the first time in a while, ive felt completely content with where i am.
what an odd feeling.

How many times in our lives do we truly do things we want to do? What path am I on? Am I stuck? If I hold all my fingers up, and choose to put one down, is this enough evidence to support freedom of choice? Society tells me I have to go to school, then get a job. Will this lead to happiness? Is society set up to keep people happy, or simply to keep the money moving?

These inner feelings I have get suppressed. Get up, get out, move away. Through realizing ignorance and the lack of choice, I've been trying my hardest not to accept this social construct. How I'm supposed to think, to dress, what music to listen to, my opinions. I want to throw these ideas to the wind and live egoistically.

The long road leading to the beach is smooth and calm.
The day is coming to an end.
A red and orange light disperses amongst the air particles.
Beige soft sand sticks on sandals.
The beach crowd is romantic,
they drink their wine.
Closer to the water are sticks are rocks.
Underneath the soft sand,
is tar hidden throughout.
Two boys are sitting.
In front of them the water creates a perfect mirror image of the sky.
The one with the long hair says, "Yea man, the first time I experienced a wave, I got thrown right on my face. But I'm sure everyone does."
The other boy nods.
Past the edge,
where the water does not visibly go out and come in
are bigger rocks,
waves, and sharks,
seaweed and unidentifiable objects.
Here, some heads tread above water,
and some drown.
"Funny, the last time I saw my ex girlfriend was at the ocean", the boy with the long hair said.
The other boy doesn't laugh.
On the farthest point out on the ocean;
the horizon,
the sun set and no longer existed.
In this part of the sea,
live many fish.

growing up i used to think "World Gym" said "World Gum"


im sure you can understand the disappointment


im sure you can understand the disappointment


im sure you can understand the disappointment

The man with the brilliant mind clicked and clanked as his metal cane connected with each cement step.

i left for school today at 1:00pm and finally made it back to my place at 10:30pm. it has only been a day but it feels like its been an entire week.

Be cafeful where you look; for where your eyes have control, your mind does not. -Bubfucius