i have seen this data in my ones and zeroes. it warmed them all two times. now, now i'm twos and zeroes. i think. i see you there. you have strength. everyday someone sends you some. some by spitting air into the winds and others by whispering at rocks. you hear and feel them things. the son shone bearing a boar made out of daylights.
you can stick your hand in it and it feels like a salad bowl full of tiny ball bearings or a million tiny sleeping insects cold twitching in their insect dreams. like eyelids but not as soft. you have strength and love within and without. you have a quickness. i don't know anything. i am afraid of everything. sometimes i can't stop wanting to die. sometimes days feel good. i still smoke. probably should quit that.no controlloe. love to you my friend.
we were both born of smoke. as kids at the parents people parties. sitting under the coffee table watching their feet mingle. watching snacks and ashes fall gracefully to the floor. watching the dog's tongue beat you to the chip. all the while inhaling the smoke. blue. maybe that's why we deal in sadness more than others. i feel good sometimes lately. i have songs for you to hear and you have songs to sing to me so neither of us can leave yet.
i've made pencil mark sentences. i see your love and raise you a hug. peace.
5 comments:
i have seen this data in my ones and zeroes. it warmed them all two times. now, now i'm twos and zeroes. i think.
i see you there. you have strength. everyday someone sends you some. some by spitting air into the winds and others by whispering at rocks. you hear and feel them things.
the son shone bearing a boar made out of daylights.
you can stick your hand in it and it feels like a salad bowl full of tiny ball bearings or a million tiny sleeping insects cold twitching in their insect dreams. like eyelids but not as soft.
you have strength and love within and without. you have a quickness. i don't know anything. i am afraid of everything. sometimes i can't stop wanting to die. sometimes days feel good. i still smoke. probably should quit that.no controlloe.
love to you my friend.
we were both born of smoke. as kids at the parents people parties. sitting under the coffee table watching their feet mingle. watching snacks and ashes fall gracefully to the floor. watching the dog's tongue beat you to the chip. all the while inhaling the smoke. blue. maybe that's why we deal in sadness more than others. i feel good sometimes lately. i have songs for you to hear and you have songs to sing to me so neither of us can leave yet.
i've made pencil mark sentences. i see your love and raise you a hug. peace.
Control is overrated. Embrace chaos.
You're a good man, Tim. I know you'll be fine.
Merry Christmas.
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