Word Vomit 13/__________

I realized that I’m the only person keeping me from being one hundred percent,
all the time.
I am a floating being,
discovering new facets of this silver lining with each footstep.
Never knowing exactly where I’m going,
but trusting that there is something greater than me leading the way.
I am the glue that never dries.
I have shattered again.
Each time,
as I retrieve my fragments and piece myself together again,
I discover new bits of my being I didn’t know existed.
And so I try my best to fit them into the puzzle image that is my life,
hoping that some day,
they’ll come to form an sight worth while.
I need to forget
I need to forget
I am glue that will never dry
I shatter and you do not allow me to dry
I must hold myself together
I look into the abyss
I see my reflection
She does not know my name
I don’t know who I am
But sometimes I think I just don’t want to know
Things would be easier that way
Yes?
I am
I am
I am
Confused
I am so confused
I am happy
I need to be
Don’t I?
I should be
I am the only person keeping me from being one hundred percent,
all the time
But I am happy.
The only way for anyone to every be happy is for them to truly believe it.
And that is what I am going to do.
I often wonder
why it is that I find myself sitting in the bathtub at this hour
staring blankly at a wall.
I wait for something to surface,
and whatever does,
I speak to.
And I say whatever it is that comes to mind,
because I believe that whatever I think of first,
are words and thoughts that need to be expunged.
It’s a strange process,
I know.
One that must look even stranger than it sounds.
How would you feel if you saw me talking to a wall?
Not just any,
but the blank tiled wall in my bathtub.
Strange?
You should try it sometime.

Sometimes I just want to know what it is that compels me to say and do the things that I say and do. But more than that, I want to know why the hell I think the thoughts that I think. You see, being Non-Sabrina means that I am so much more logical than Sabmarina is. And being Non-Sabrina makes it so much easier to live, because she has a far more level head than any of the Sabrina’s. But she is ultimately the least fun for that very reason that she sees the flaws in all the decisions I have ever and will ever possibly make. Perhaps that’s a good thing, well who am I kidding, it’s a great thing. And not a moment goes by that I’m not thankful for the fact that I have a facet like that that is always figuratively looking out for me, but she is a part of me that I need to really put effort into if I am to access her. She is more succinct and rational in many ways, in ways that the other Sabrina’s are not capable of being. But I wonder why it is that I sit here on restless nights and wonder about humans that don’t wonder about me. I wonder why I am compelled to wonder. I wonder why it is I am unable to take my own advice. I wonder why it is that I am talking as I am typing. I wonder why the hell it is that I’m not in bed, even though I clearly should be. Existential crisis, or what? I wonder what you wonder about. I wonder why I am perpetuated as someone I am not, but choose to remain that way. I wonder why I am unable to notice that there are no distinctions between certain things. I wonder why I am wasting my time. I wonder why you are wasting yours. I wonder why I am even writing about this, or anything for that matter. It’s because I feel inclined to word vomit, and that’s the first answer I’ve given to any of the aforementioned “I wonder” statements I’ve made. I wonder who I am. I wonder if my reflection in the mirror is really a reflection of who I am on the inside, or if I am just an amalgamation of cells that have lost their way. I wonder why I am unable to fill in the blank. I know why. It is because the thing it must be filled with is something I avoid. I am glue that never dries. I am a thought that will never be completed. I am the ellipses on the end of a statement. A “to be continued” episode that you never got around to watching. I wonder why things are the way they are. But then I remember that even if I knew, it wouldn’t change a thing.

Word Vomit 12/Crescendo

This is a dual word vomit, and features very strange things transcribed from words produced by the mouth of another human. This was also typed without looking at the screen, so there are many typos and errors which have been left in/not corrected. Nevertheless, enjoy.

Bad bad not good.

Elements of my brain are going for a walk.
They have dropped their pens and chopsticks,
and entangled themselves in the vines of my subconscious.
I wander,
in search of emptiness.
The wisest man is he who knpows he knows nothing.
Tuxedos,
a mask.
A fiscade,
pretending that we belong in high rises,
when we are bottom dwellers,
breathing in dirt and sut,
engulfed in our own waste.
I am no longer as I was.
The pen has run out of ink,.
The cap has disappeared,
and UI’m glad.
Its ink,
need not be contained.
Mhy thoughts,
have laid dornamt for far too long.
Brothers and sisters of the earth will erupt
in a symphony of pigment and fear.
I have forgotten to remember that which is most important.
You dont fucked,

You done fucked. Do you realize how much youve done fucked the audacity of you not fucking paying attention to the fact that you didnt wwrite dank shit. What the fuck, I need to find this meme.  It’s necessary rfoe me to survive in the enxt 48 hours, if O do not find this meme I will split everyones wrists with my dick and I will not use the pointy end., I’lluse the jagged rusty ladel shaped end of my ballsack jointed to my penis listen to me I will fuck every child under the age of thrtre if I do not find this fucking meme and you there you bitch stop reading this. This is detremental to your health. Go seek a psychiatrist or I will grap your butt cheeks and separate them into two separate dimensions and I will plunge my legs into your asshole so far that I will create a paradox existing within your asshole and jumping into it stop typing this shit. This is tupid.

This concludes word vomit 12.

Word Vomit 12/In Heaven’s Stead, I Smite Clothing

Preface: This was typed without looking at the screen, so there are many typos and punctuation mistakes that I have chosen to leave uncorrected.

“Untitled” 1990 – Monica Majoli  Oil on Panel, 5″ x 17″ (12.7 x 44.5 cm)

Emperor Qin has ordered the removal of my brain. On a silver platter with your egotistical needs, my spine sits, ready to be cut into one bite samples. It is during moments like these that I am reminded of the blueness of the sky. Pastel shades in juxtaposition with red carnations emerging from within. Steam is filling the room, clouding my lenses. I was already blind long before you came along. We feel the dampness upon our skin, we are reminded that we are human. Although sometimes we wish we didn’t have to be. It is in moments like these that I forget what it is I have been told it is that I should be doing. And then everything comes to a complete stop. You see, it;s nice at times, to take a moment to freeze and remember what it’s like to breathe. To bring your head in from the open window on the highway and remove the h air from your eyes. Not anything to see but black, and yet the concept of the window is inviting enough to ruin our good (or not) hair days. Our days becoming a neverending daze of forgotten sunlight and misshapen  figures not on this coordinate plane. A line is never ending in two directions. A ray is never ending in only one direction. Eighth grade was my least favorite year. I remember everything, like it was only seven years ago. There is a pain in my side that reminds me that I have a liver. It tells me that it does not want to be abused. My arm shows remnants of a bruise. My liver does not want to be abuse, neither do I. And so I listen to it. We are in the same boat, more or less. Hoping that some day we do not drown. I am afraid. Water is my favorite thing in this world, and my worst nightmare. I don”t mind not breathing, only when I choose not to do so. I am Ushikawa and you are Tamaru. Deciding when I live, and when I die. Plastic, developed from bits of my recycled disheveled self. A rubber band is all you need to seal the deal. I have a say, with pen, brush, crayon even, but words cannot escape the tunnel. Before long, we are nothing but leaves floating along a river of our cerebrospinal fluid. In heaven’s stead, I smite clothing. It’s all I can remember. Perhaps it”s all I know. I am sure of nothing. I wonder if that is an irrational thought.. Shakyamuni Buddha has left me behind to spend eternity on her pedestal of gilt bronze. Prabhutaratna Buddha has long forgotten of my midterm tomorrow. I am on my own gyroscope, brain frying, served with bread and butter because for some reason, everyone expects that at restaurants. I expect nothing because that’s what I plan to rweceive. I’ve learned to not want what I want because what I want is what I will never have. Material possessions are a thing ofd the past. A thing most prevalent in the present because of the presents we receive simply because of our presence. We unwrap one after anohter, onlly to wrap ourselves once again in expensive this and thats. Shelter witha  more appealing exterior, I suppose. You suppose. Is that why you do it? Why do we do anything we do?  Our lives a giant, indiscernible puzzle, pieces thrown about. Never knowing just how many the final prpoduct has. An image that gets more confusion the further we piece it together. And that’s okay. That’s actually how I like it. This is all assumption, actually. And I don’t like to assume. I like to paint, and smite clothing, as iut seems. Streams of seams it seems are forgetting me just as I have forgotteh the world. Goodbye and hello.