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.