Don't Overstay Your Welcome

Chaotic void cultivation, cultivation of an inner organic ecosystem, the internal garden, the eternal flame, the eternal immaterial. Lay awake at night and fade into the ceiling, break the seal, instilled with fear in real time, tongue tied and intertwined two bodies in a pile of sweat and musk. Flustered, the concussed, cussing under breath, under oath, under death. As above so below, the hill and its shadow, the yin and the yang, counterparts. Parts of a whole, facets of a shattered mirror, mirror image of a mirror image of fear itself. A tuft of hair tucked behind an ear, open up the door to feeling. It’s a year away and a year is three hundred and sixty five days and if we fade away we decay decay decay. Leap year, leap into the water before you dip your toe in. Foreboding and foreshadowed, forever and forgot. The lamp casts its reflection in the delapidated glass window whose paint chips away at a daily quota owing to the forces of entropy. Ask the window to set a reminder, it must remind me of who I am and who I once was, it must remind me that this is not my home and never was and never will be. The contract expires again and over again. The wind hits your skin like a suckerpunch to the gut. A strong gust tears me limb from limb. Up the stairs there’s an attic you will reside in, it will fair you well for the next phase of your journey but once the next phase starts you must let go. You must let go of consistency, you must let go of expectations, you must let go of the material bargain, none of it will be useful in the long run. Stray from the path at times and the creek will always be there to guide you back. The flow of the creek, the creek and its unending flow... On overstaying your welcome, where is the line? When was the welcome extended and when was it overextended? What was the trajactory? When was I welcome? You’re welcome. You’re always welcome back.

What kind of friend are you? Are you obligated?

Crawl back into the crack in the wall. Picking at the edges of the degradation, my lifeless body drops to the floor. Pick it back up, five second rule. Wide ruled notebook and a pencil pouch in the backpack I carry in dreams where I repeat school over and over again. Which way, wash away, wish a way forward to become visible. Drool on my pillow, toolbox outside of the tool shed. Two heads are better than one so I become siamese twins with myself. Split in two, a watermelon. Don’t recall the design. A dirty job, it’s honest labor. It’s the hottest day of the year. Extinguish the fire with tears. You have to tear it down to build it up again. Cut my skin, cup my ears I don’t want to hear a thing. The sub frequencies of your voice bothers me. Sedate my face, make me numb. Walk into a slovenly fever dream. It is excruciating. Scream out loud, bleed my veins with a knife or a leech. Uninhibited, unleashed. Leashed to the pole in the backyard. The backyard has missing patches of grass and dry dirt cracking. Zig zag frown turn it upside down. Down the street we go and hide in the rain drain in your parents back yard, your dad comes out and yells at us. Relief brought on by deceit, keep the receipt, keep the change, keep the strange ways hidden, they’ll steal your way of living. An aphid, ever so miniscule, live in my shoes. Sit in confusion. The sentence formula, baby formula for the neighbor’s new born. A new storm is rolling in check the forecast. Hard drive backed up, sink backed up, car backed up and drove away. Stay awake, stay away, the way stays. It loops and replays. The weight aches my muscles and tendons. Ten houses down from where I once lived. I didn’t give enough notice before leaving. Chronically focused still dreaming while the shower starts steaming up the mirror. The mirror made its mark on me, it’s not hard to see. Alien abduction fetish, recalled lettuce. Flesh recall, total recall DVD on my night stand. Tooth paste scratch solution. Diluted pursuit. Second hand purse and a pair of boots. Foreboding dilapidation of the body. Trod in mud. In the parking lot zoned out, zoomed out, find out who’s loud enough to be heard. Outside of the herd looking in like a wolf, a wolf in sheeps clothing, a sheep in wolves clothing.

The Well of Self Loathing

Outside the well I stare into the pool of brackish water wondering what it would be like to touch the bottom. I feel like Samara, I’m still trapped in that well and I’m not doing well. Variations in the melodrama of life and trials and tribulations. When I wake I feel as though I can feel the various distortions other beings create upon the fabric of reality. It is a relentless drone. Honing my mind out of respect for the distortion, feeling my way through the wall of white noise. We are all blind but it’s all relative, like time. Straining my eyes, pondering time. I am suspended in air and suspended in tree sap turning into amber. Her name was Amber. Outside of the chamber, I wonder what it was like to even be in it.

The door is jammed in the hallway, jamming in the room where I got greened out off a dab hit that was too intense for me. I watch as the fragments disperse, I watch as the hurt becomes immersive like a vat of acid melting my skin into my bones and cartilage and sinew. Since you left, I pick up where I left off. The left hand and the right hand. I navigated past what I could dream of. I had a wet dream last night, utter disregard for the old guard, it's time for me to finish what I started, its time for me to chart my progress. The best guess is your guess is my guess is. Be my guest. The quest we all partake in, question all phenomenon. The drama in the room like the elephant, is the elephant here with us right now, not allowed out but I go out. Crowded thoughts, shrouded belief systems, systemic, seismic shift.

Enter the yin and yang on the street by the gas station. We got a speedway down the road. We got a vape store down the road. We have it all down the road. Speed in the truck in the cold while we’re drunk. Still 17 years old, still 15 years old, still 25 years old. Still born, wake up reformed into a new alter, new altars. New symbols and new idolatry. distant eyes with pupils dilated. failures and alien sightings, enlightenment on gas station pills, ash trays and mountains out of mole hills, molded into your own little puppet, scolded in a corner I was shoved into, dove into the ash and being reborn, perform. jaded scorn, faded form. trade me away, in the reflection my naked face is presented to me.

Would it ever be worth my while? It's always worth a try. It's worth a try. It's worth a cry afterwards. It's worth ripping your hair out over. It's worth crying over. It's not worth crying over. Crying never. Cryogenically frozen turn the lever and let me out. On the level I'm not allowed to go out. I'm not allowed to talk to you. I'm not allowed to be friends with you. Noone came over. Noone hung out. Noone played. No replays, no takebacksy. All along I was never a top choice. Smart but too weird. Weird but too smart. Wise but naive. An unmarked grave with untapped potential. We could hoard pencils, we could look towards tomorrow or potentially the next week. Dampened handful of toilet paper stuck to the ceiling in the bathroom. I stuck out like a sore thumb, my thumb were sore from doing the "dumb," work the "work harder not smarter," work.

I would try again for you. I would cry again for you. It's nearing the end of January 2026 and I turn 25 on February 3rd. I never thought I would make it here. I never thought I would live this long. A quarter of a century I've lived, I've survived. I don't know much what to feel on birthdays. I don't find time checkpoints to be satisfying at all.

I watch the water fall out of the faucet, I watch as my teeth fall out. I'm in a nightmare in 3rd person, watching and learning and burning. Ropes burn on my wrist, I won't exist. I'm on a solo trip to the moon and I'm never coming back. I cry inside and fold up like a blanket, I cry inside and noone hears me scream either, mouth breather, nose breather, can't stand my features or speaking or the fever I wake with every morning. Yawning, boring, you told this story, stole a few items from the store I'm horny. Go outside and the cold chaps my lips, the chill slaps my fist and my knuckles peel. I cave into what's real. I cave in to how you feel. My field of view distorts, murmurs and quick retorts, I'm taught to force a laugh. Lying to a psychopath, dying. You told me to leave, so I left. I'll change the locks this time, I can do it to myself. I'll put your belongings on the porch, I'll yank the bandaid off, I'll unscrew the training wheels. I'll control the narrative and for what and for what? Follow the impulse in earnest, be honest. I watch my emotional presence stray further into the distance. It isn't even a speck anymore. I want to find my way home. I yearn to be a known unknown. I yearn to be alone. Aloe on the sunburn it's summer and the world keeps turning and the world keeps turning and the blade turns in the stab wound and I'll be alone soon again. Alone with my thoughts, alone with my skin, scanning within to find some kind of plot thats mine to follow. Why did you have to hollow me out? Why did you have to take what wasn't yours to take or have or use? What did you even get from it all? I withdraw from you and I'm shivering in my bed, tensing up, there's an ache in my forehead. I bled for you, you watched me bleed. I'll just keep detaching from me. I'm inbetween. Was I mean to you? Was I the world's youngest manipulator? What do I deserve?

The whirr of cold wind in my ears. It aches and aches and burns and aches like floorboards. Dry wall sores. Go to the store they'll have some! A picture is worth a thousand words. A smile is worth the sun. Discarded son bastardized by definition. Another war of attrition.

The dead horse beaten. The path less taken. Breath taking, the wind has left my lungs. A knock on my door. Tire pressure is low, the unswept snow. I let you go. I let me go. I let too much go.

I'll sketch polygons around your sleeping spirit. I'll go outside with you. I'll tell you you're worth it. I'll kiss you and it will mean something. I will do so many things if what's done stops hurting. I'll cuddle a teddy bear. I'll feel safe. I'll love harder than ever thought possible. I'll fix it all, I promise.

i might cry myself to sleep, i might try to dream, i might clear my throat and try to scream, i might stare at a screen all day, no money, no problems, no solutions to the volume turned up in the room, hyper-real, consumed, groomed my hair, doomed,, extra details, extraneous nails and the screws in my hands and my nails grow longer, and scratch my fear,, i can barely stand, shaky legs, shaky arms, shaky hands, nothing was harmed in the making of this long ass poem, i don't know him or her or words to say, for freedom, let me explain, exclaimed the maimed one, the flame is out of the fire, the aim is out of desire, the lame and the meek, i tame my will to speak, my desire to peak when the situation is dire, aspire for higher purpose, nervous i promise, the longest wait till i vomit, tossing and turning on a cot in the office, im cautious, the caustic substance on the wound caused this to be completely honest, the burn out, the constant novice, sitting on my aching coccyx, the puddle of toxins underneath my engine demands my attention, the tension in the room makes me tip toe, skip through the movie and keep the volume low, reload and relocate, float the burnt rubber on the pavement outside of the apartment, i stayed in on occasion till my bank account was empty and vacant, fined for vagrancy, maintain complacency lately, its late at night, i cant speak, i cant see in the dark but my eyes adjust, adjunct existence, zits on dry skin, skin me alive then, predator leviathan, writhing serpent, surface tension worthless and penetrated, visionary self deprecation, defecate on my favorite locations, desecrate a grave, im in grave danger, the anger i feel inside of me cant be contained so it spills over like a bubbling boiling grease pit, armpits smell like a raccoon, outside at noon its cold until soon it gives and its warm and im warm and i hold myself toward the sun for some light on my skin, lite touch, light up the dutch, light up my clutches my hands and my palms, poultry, telephone poles and trees, lamp posts and greed, agree to disagree about my ways of grieving, my way of breathing dissected, insects crushed on the asphalt, its my fault i know, im known and unknown, the home i was at isn't my home and im that yes im that, im this and im that yes im that, outside like a cat, caged up like a cat, not allowed back like a cat thats wild, feral child, very mild freestyle, the style i have is a while away from making sense and i cant hone it or sharpen in, chardonnay wine, whine and dine and kill me, instill me with fear so i can be the real me, drill me with information that will make me filthy, and dirty, flirt with me till im hurting, hurt me till im bleeding, read me till im deleted from your memory, overlapping over and over and over until the stack is so big it topples, stock up with apples that rot, the flesh rots, the thoughts rot in my mind, they're way past expiration, inspiration and respiration, rest assured, im tested well and evasive maneuvers are neccesary,

the forgotten favorite and an unsavory gesture in the moment in the pasture before we went to school and the mist was out in the air floating and floating and floating. we forgot about knowing, we forgot about what we owed to our parents that evening, in the night we relive it. we relieve the pressure of the image that's supposed to be close to the truth. close to having a use but not quite. i can't be quiet enough, i can't quit, i can't catch my own bluff. the blunt is so tough on my lungs it turns me to rubber. i hope i didn't rub her the wrong way. this street is a one way, this relationship is a two way street. it takes two tango, it takes a whole town to suffer from the damage of a tornado. i never liked cherry tomatoes and i was too picky to eat ravioli. when my mom picked me up i was still hungry. it was nap time and i was still hungry. lunch meat in the fridge when i got home from school. my head hurts and my pillow is covered with drool after an unpredictable sleep.

plus equals the four way interesection at which we meet. plus equals addition, addition equals creation, construction, adding to the conversation. LGBTQIA+, plus equals gender abolition, fluidity, the grey area, undefined, the self in flux creativity, the crossroads equal clean slate of trajectory or an invitation to develop momentum, the cross, the path. four choices and all in between.

I will become the chilly wind on a Wednesday afternoon in winter. I will become the Wednesday Afternoon. Watch the leaves fall and then crumble into nothingness on the cracked pavement. There once was a puddle left after a late spring rain and oil swam in it like minnows. The oil shined it’s beautiful sheen like a peacock’s feathers. Can I weather this storm inside me? I paid attention in school. I paid attention to what my parents told me. Patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue like diamonds. Does anyone have any spare diamonds? In elementary school a classmate gave me a piece of glass that was trimmed into the shape of a diamond and he said he was from the future where diamonds were everywhere, I wonder if he was telling the truth. It’s cold at the bus stop and my skin gets bumps as big as mountains and the chills shake me like electric current. What is virtue? What is value? Is value always in relation to something else? Living in the kingdom of artificial scarcity, I wonder a few things. I wonder what my life would be like if I had parents who nurtured me. I wonder what my life would be like if I had a safety net to fall back on. These are just a few things I ponder as I scratch lines on the cave wall. The bon fire casts light that licks the wall like shadow tongues. I wonder what is behind a shadow. Does a shadow have a shadow? I want to be friends with a black hole. I want to be friends with a star. I wonder what would happen if a light was cast and it lit up every little crevice of my psyche and I could see what the darkness wraps up in it’s void blanket. I shake out the darkness like I lost an item in that blanket. I’;m looking for a piece of jewelry or maybe the "diamond," I mentioned earlier. Virtuous. Nauseous. Cautious. Trust issues, trust fall, trust spring, trust summer, trust the wind on a Wednesday afternoon in winter. When the embers burned to nothing, I went back inside with my eyes dry and my clothes smelling of smoke. The wind changes directions and the smoke proliferates my sinuses. I live to tell the tale, I live by chance and heads or tails. Dead end job, dead end life, dead end prospects and hobbies. Reading as a child, I don’t feel real, I live through the pages as a character of my own design. Is it all by design? I hope not otherwise God is disturbed in ways I don’t want to think about. I hope there is a higher power out there that will embrace me one day. My domain gets very lonely despite having a community to fall back on. Punching in the numbers, punching in the clock. Closed eyes dirty sheets and dirty socks on the mattress. Strike a match, 3 strikes and you’re out, out and about and drowning in a crowd. don’t think, don’t judge, don’t blink, don’t smudge the ink or the paint or the glass. Don’t drink. Don’t pass out. Close that door like Chief Keef said. The door with the demon pouncing through it, the door without a lock. The door that sparked an argument that led me to be displaced. The door in my mind ;d rather not acknowledge or ever open. ;d never open it even a hair. The hare that we follow down the way and through the looking glass and through today and tomorrow and yesterday. I wish I wasn’t Alice, noone takes Alice seriously. Take it with a grain of salt, take it with a shard of glass, drink it with a chaser, bottom out the glass. There is blue salt on the sidewalk and the concrete is chipping away similar to a river bank eroding from flooding. Lately I can’t think of what to write. I am someone with many things to say but ;m becoming a person who listens more than anything. ;m attempting to hear the rhythm I often overlook in my flow states. I want to hear the flow state of everything else. I take a deep breath. I almost forgot to take my medicine I will do that now. ;ve spent so much time thinking of what ;ll do and forgot what I was doing. Exit through it, the door I left open. When you know that after certain things there will be noone to hold you afterward, no warm embrace for you in the after life or in the current life. Forever tainted by the decisions made before you were even conceived as a thought or a concept or idea. It pains me to know what I know. It pains me to be who I am. I wake up and my skin crawls with bugs and the window is open. I wish the air wouldn’t constrict me, I wish my honesty wouldn’t convict me, nothing can convince me that anything is okay. Nothing can convince me any of this is easy and I accept that fact to the best of my ability and I take another deep breath. I keep fighting.

Mutation of vision and perspective division, divide up attention, the tension, the setting is shifting the rest of us lifted on the gift of redemption. Transmute, T.V. on mute refute, refuse, chute, shoot, who is who?

glitch me out and watch me fall to pieces, the wails heard from the summit disturb us, use your inside voice, inside choice and truth and lies there’s a little compartment.
camera branding is scraped off the plastic and turned to particles, there’s ash in the grate outside in the backyard, ash that once was paper that once had ink that told of a few things,
the era we come from and the zeitgeist and all of that.
grunge, unwashed clothes and morning sickness
movie stills and moodboards and save files.
liminality losing my train of thought and losing reality.
cyber sigilism, building artificial exorcism, systematic
building liquid obelisks, oddly twisted and at risk, rake in leaves and hold your fist out for the handouts
fractal fragments made of snow flakes, the imagined notation that we won’t follow. follow your agency out the room
a web crawling with spiders and struggling bugs that happened to run into the aforementioned web.
divine machinery, my fingers pluck away at the keyboard hydraulically.
its all automated angel blood, its all angel blood, watch the angle of the flood, my ankles sink into the mud. angel blood, angel mud cleanse, suds from soap from the aforementioned cleanse
play pretend, attached to the end like an hr giger painting.
gage your sensitivity with me, lets be proud of our shame and break it all down, lets be contradictions, living breathing contradictions.
hit with the 2000s smell, hit with a reason to sell my soul, hit with a reason to tell my goals to everyone around me.
just a girl who blogs, just a girl who blogs, just a girl who blogs, just a girl who blogs, just a girl who blogs

bathroom mirror fogged up by the recent shower, car mirror fogged up by my breath, we’re headed for death, we’re heading to hell for heaven’s sake
;ll find my forgotten core, ;ll design my own fate and watch the boredom grow on your face as I describe it in detail. words won’t do me justice
flyover states, injustice, had to make a few adjustments, the growing budget, the smudge on the glass, a touch of the grass on my skin stained like paste, make haste, fade to grey
motion blur on the trail cam with the deer in the abandoned messy stone structure, it’s made of limestone to be exact, become a cryptid with me lets watch the memory of us become obscured. suburbs and blurred minds
abandoned time, abandoned twine in a plastic bag that will be resold on the shelves at Goodwill messy
;ll wait till there’s less of me
;ll sink into the old web,
the cold hand of death hold’s my head.

living up to expectations, taken, forsaken this life
it gets so difficult
theres way too many eyes
watching me in a centerfold
it gets so hard to please
watch me melt like ice cubes
standing with disease
im friends with it and so are you

i listen to the inane hiss of cars on the highway traversing over melting slush. the summer months becoming, what am i becoming? what have i become? bee hives full of bee cum. honey secum, septum, lorem ipsum, if this then that, if alive then kill, better dead than real, reel to reel, raid the fridge, raid the end of the earth for revenge on the hearth that burned and burned and burned with anger and a coat hanger abortion and a coat hanger snapped into two different portions, potions and curtains on the window made of leather, life made of pleasure, life made of plastic, life made into a classic novel, literature, overture, are you sure? are you insured? are you injured? what can i endure?
what can I pretend to endure? what’s fake what’s real? what’s manufactured artificial substandard submarine, join the marines today the ad says, stay awake for days thats what my brain says, stay away from pain thats what my skin says, typing new words on the index, inflect my voice, infect my face and rejoice after you’re done and over with and burnt out into a pile of ash, pile of cash that’s nonexistent, negative cash in the bank, thank god, thank the hankering you have for sweets, sweepstakes, sweep your room, death and doom and gloom and no room for anyone else on earth that’s what the housing people say, stay awake for what you get for christmas underneath the pine tree that’s shedding shedding shedding as times passing passing passing, passed out on the floor, flakes of scalp on the drawer, laws broken immature, it’s all a chore, chose to change to more, chose the change chump change changed from nickel to copper, cops and their coffins and coughing ;ll take the offer, the material bargain is tempting, the sun is leaving, the moon is rising, my soul is retreating, its my treat, ill buy you a drink or two, sink the boat, sink the canoe, can you do it? can you make it till next year? quarter of a century and I have nothing to show for it, lost in the forest of thoughts with the fog and the draughts and the rot in the branches of the tree that fell over on the roof of your house, the root of my tooth falling out, the root of all evil in a drought, drown doubt out with the sound of music, use the auditory use the labratory, told a story, jumped off the third story, stole a rock from the quarry, a quarrel a query a theory an eerie feeling that slightly grasps my skin then strokes it.

I dedicate myself to the slab, the slab that heals all, the slab that frees the mind from pain and torment of the flesh, the slab that creates mindfulness in every path it takes.

What whim will take me back to the heart of you? What beauty is the eye of the beholder on this fine afternoon? Turn the chapters in a book, turn your laughter into tears, turn your tears into a tea, take my spot inside the air we breath. I count my breaths, I count my sheep, I count the hours that I sleep. Sleet falls on my head and shoulders, dandruff in the winter and head and shoulders shampoo. Shameful husk of a human. Hide from myself I can’t prove I exist. Exit the room, I don’t miss you. You remind me of a time in my life ;d rather forget and I don’t hold resentment against you for that anymore. You were ill equipped to handle my state of mind and to be fully honest with you I don’t think anyone was equipped to tell me what I already knew and for it to stick and feel real. I never felt real for the better part of twenty years and often I still don’t. I held a lot of pain over how neglected I felt by you but at the end of the day who you are is not for me to judge. I know who I am and how ;m perceived, ;m afraid to admit that. I still love you but I don’t miss us. I miss when anything from before 2025 felt on any level redeemable. I hope you are well. I still think about you and I wish I could’ve made our time together less harsh for the both of us.

I leave my heart at the foot of the slab. I laugh at the times I took too many tabs of acid then wince when I get close to that one memory. ;m dirty, where do I go to get clean?

777111 Octava Spera Mnemosyne Celestial Memory

i can't waste any time i've spent
i cant taste how the climate changed
in the room we were made in the room we decayed
flush a few decades down the drain, unmade
fade back into the spring, fresh water
we were fresh slaughter for the author of the book
what did it cost for the souls you took?
what did it cost for the rules you broke?
the rules you uphold you were blowing smoke
we were napkins, we got folded up
told me quit and told me good luck
stuck getting fucked by the golden goose
i was outside in a molten noose
i was outside got a no good truce
from the oldest trick in the book.