kitten, sleepy head, slippery head, its time to wake up and look at the stars. i've got my bags packed and im ready, to trip. you dont smile anymore, and i'm always telling you, but you're never asking. but i can't let the silence turn into the cancer we're not afraid of. but it heats the car, and dries the pavement and makes the worms all crusty like when i used to write, good. well. he'd rip out his tongue if it meant loving him. and he digs with his left, hand but i told him he has two. he has two. he has too, use them well. and get them dirty. he gets them dirty. but he's in all the wrong areas. dirty bastards. evil little boys. older. boys. little older. they are standard size. they are connected with the others. and the pact is broken, but they all feel so connected in their brains. but i wonder if the ten percent that their aware of is worth all they're talking about. ten percent more ego, ten percent more godly, more sucessful, more powerful, ten percent more to give a less fuck about. ten more percent of waste. for some. of them. im calling your name, kitten, lets go and put our hands out the windows and keep them from hitting the top because you dont believe in jinxing anyways. so what's real if none of this is. what real, if you're not. lets hitchike the dead roads and watch the sun come up in a valley far from home. and the funny thing about trees is you can hit them really hard and they'll never really bleed. they just have wet moisture under their brown. and i told him to eat the glass with the tree blud on it. but it was really just the protien in the tree. the layer that was green. and im sure if i cut you deep enough you'll bleed. but i'll teach you to be a tree. if you'll teach me to be free.

i promised you i would quit this and that and get on top, of everything. i'm like a beetle on my back and i cant get on my own 6 legs, again even if i never tried in the first place, i'd still need you to pick me up and turn me around. and i'm always lost in the dark, even though my eyes adjust quickly, even with all these chemicals in me. you keep playing the games i taught you eventually you'll turn into a sad evil crushed boy like me. and youre never running, you just walkfastlypastme when i asked you not to. but you forget sometimes, all the time. except for dates that everyone else forgets about. but we like that, but we need you to be more, we need you to be our robot with robot eyes, and robot hair, and robot understanding, we need you to understand. but robots don't breath, but maybe you don't either.

in second grade i made a 100 on the EOG. It included everything i needed to know. I was the luckiest brain in the class of 27. I'm 18 now, and i'm the unluckiest brain out of a million. I let the fuckers bring me down. Although they've never been on top, i havent either. I feed myself for freedom. I clean my face so I don't look dirty, just to rub more dirt onto it. I dont use cross walks, and my natural hair color isn't anything that of natural. they say you either swim or sink. i say set your fucking sail and go where you go. were you terrified the morning you woke up and realized you were still young? young and dead. or have you always been scared, that you've always, and always will be, young. and dead.

quiet. chills shake over you. the bug are just trying to get out. our of your skin. and into. something less, dirty. you ask a question, i repsond with a masked answer. the only empty i feel is in my stomache. but i just felt, my heart drop and im so full of, shit. of dust. of frail combinations of microscopic nothings. i am breakable. you just dont understand my, bones, these bones, they're bearable. i am sinking, my eyes are sinking, my eyes are twitching with sleep, but i know i should be awake. writing. this. shit that you will read and re read and forget. and re forget.