Stream of Consciousness



“When composing a verse let there not be a hairs breath separating your mind from what you write; composition of a poem must be done in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree or a swordsman leaping at a dangerous enemy.”
― Bashō Matsuo

i have this feeling like the world is waking up but that is not a feeling its a thought i think do my feelings think too

black bird singing in the dead of night take these broken wings and learn to fly

i should wear my gray shirt tomorrow gray is my favorite color i felt so symbolic yesterday

i really should commit to learning an instrument and a second language maybe the drums and maybe german i know how to play the drum part from in the air tonight i think thats phil collins 

the truth is i am an instrument the hose that the water flows through

im a barbie girl in my barbie world why does that song always sneak in i hate that song life in plastic its fantastic it tends to take over

oh here comes another hey little girl is your daddy home did he go and leave you all alone you cool my desire oh oh oh im on fire

i think it is so weird that some of the songs that randomly play in my head end up being by an artist who is dead 2 or 3 days after the song pops in my head

i wonder if i am a mind murderer like do i kill people with my thoughts oh god i can’t even entertain it

why do i keep seeing an old time typewriter that says oliver maybe oliver twist

shit what if i really do commit murders with my mind im feeling pretty anxious now i should go be with my breath

all your life you were only waiting for this moment to arise

I know, I know. “What the fuck is wrong with her?” Nothing. Absolutely nothing. That was just the unedited outpouring of my thoughts. It’s called Stream of Consciousness. I can turn it off and tune to other stations and that has filled many of my journal pages over the years. That is how I wrote THIS post. Being so open and honest is quite shocking to people who are conditioned to lie about how they feel and be nice just for the sake of being nice. I died a little more every day when I was still about that life. Thank God I saw the light.

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the wheel escape



ive been running in circles trapped in a wheel

spinning and sick

 refusing to feel

totally unconscious

lack of free will

once i was silent time stood still

must escape the spinning wheel

180 degrees of motion

dove head first into a deep dark ocean

holy wholeness is divine

souls must simmer before they can shine