Spoken word poetry, till I get it, I leave it alone. Wow, it’s left alone. In case of good poetry break this glass. I just sit here and discover, letting the word explain itself in the giving of lines and in the hurtin’ of the world.
If I show you the pain will you stop it? Will you even know it’s there where you feel your pain? Oh no another Holocaust movie all about bein’ numb. I can’t give you this star-glow to ride the world on its tongue feelin’ people. I’m not a robot I’m free, but the price of my freedom is your pain, your wellbeing I feel like my own.
It’s shoots me all the time, or it gives me stars. I’m there with you in the delivery room of another bucket of world today, huh?
I see through all these sleeves of world maker’s art, a world upon world in the moments with mine, a conglomerate of worlds of this group of people and that, of this person alone, of all the mini worlds that make up this world that we call Earth. Can you see that simultaneously with your own? I taste you there. I know you’re there.
How do I communicate this to you so you feel it too like you have your children’s hands in your own, like your best friend’s smile, like your mother’s love? I don’t die there, but I question God all the time and Sri Aurobindo.
These are terrible times, and they get ready for tomorrow terrible too, with a past just as terrible starin’ us in the face. Let the good times roll, and my God they do. How sweet life can be in its gathered moments, how manageable, but why does it always add up to this: life is not a bundle of joy; life gets us in corners and does bad things to us. Can you understand that?
Why does the world go on like nothin’s happenin’, like it’s free and easy and clean, so standardized? They scream on the news bad news to an audience of normal, of tie your shoe, of everything’s alright here, ain’t it? Not in every bubble. So much quiet desperation it has been said.
Do you know the rovin’ hellhole? Somewhere on Earth at any given time they’re eating each other alive. It’s the worst place on the planet for a moment. Hell swallows them whole, unbelievable cruelty, and nothin’ to redeem them. Goddamn that stinks.
Alight I’m blessed. I live in a little pocket of warmth and forgiveness. I have opened the doors to humanity in the stadium of my room. I ride there all day figurin’ you out. I take great thoughts to the skies, but I must remember I’m a low man on the totem pole in your eyes. I do nothin’ here that grants you my room, that shows what I’m doin’ larger than life.
A poet of world standing I am not. I’m a poet among many thousands in the availability of today, and no poetry comes along and wallops your head or smites your heart from my pen. I just spit in the breeze. That’s the trash dumpster, and here let me give it another poem. I put my dogs to sleep, and I wish you goodnight.
All united and happy they think. Come here Luna. Get your head… [vision of Luna Rottweiler putting her head in a hole in the ground] One doggy at a time. Oh fuck I’m on Candid Camera. He’s just gonna go for it. Well then the surprises and bad secrets, heart is ruined on the same thing: waging war on the Fourth of July. What’s the significance of your dog growing? Into a likeness of you. What I didn’t have: put every slept of it complete. My God, they should be spilled.
What is it this time? Dr. Milk Powder— I haven’t called you; I’ve had enough, is that the plan? You know he’s lost his boy. They’re travel uneasiness way to stutter. Don’t you see? Alongside with it it’s real. You know his boy’s called not in awhile. Suffer this, and it just last of people’s hittin’.
Do you like people? Is this fruit juice? Why is it we always hate somebody, run there all the time? You really enjoy this life don’t you? It seems all fair winds. Need to pull her pregnant with the grenade. It will get you every time. Just look around the world. Just look at your neighbor.
Do you know how we get along? Do you know how we get through this? We don’t be monsters to each other. We don’t be mean. We try to be kind and giving in our painful moments. This is overcoming the world and getting better at yourself. It’s a love angle, and we need more love. That house definitely, where you put your hat off, where you sit around. Love those people, the people you’re life-in’ with. You don’t know how much this counts.
It’s all an effort I know. We have to overcome ourselves to do it sometimes, but we have to give this baseball to all the standin’s in the world, so we can have a world that works. Is that so hard to believe?
You know the world is full of holes. Even the divine is negligent and will crush you to make the world, will just stand by and watch. These are not pleasant times, but we have to endure them, tryin’ to find joy inside, tryin’ to give our children a good time.
What else is there? Spirituality’s a pole we lean on. There are surprises in consciousness if we let them. There’s a world maker’s art you can see. These are deep down inside, past the underwear, past all that gets in the way. There is strong inside, even after you’re shattered.
This world’s a dream maker’s art, so much more than show, but this is a common dream we are having that the significance of dream shows. We’re living out a representation telling a story, and all our lives add to that One involved, and all our lives keep going. We’re where time loops around itself a great big mechanism of being that has definite boundaries that we can cross and get out of here after the whole has been complete. We’re goin’ somewhere together, and yes some escape before time, but they’ll end up on another world soon.
This great big ship has a destination you know, something worth time, something bigger than ourselves and is ourselves at the same time. I’ve gone out of the universe you see and been myself on high.
Stupid me, I describe experience like you’ll believe it, but you can kill me and it’ll still be there. It can’t be erased from time. I’m a nobody because of it, liftin’ up my room for you to see. It’s got crosses on it and monkey bars, because I’m just like you, but I’ve been given a breath of supernal air, and I need to tell you about it. It’s affected my vision. I see the world.
I’m just like everybody, but I don’t live like you inside. I live with you and inner vision. I get rocked by joys that fill my noon the outside world doesn’t bring me. I feel oceans of sadness I’m not in the world about. I feel existence pain, and when I walk outside, drive my bike through the town, the countryside, it’s a wonder-weft of miracle, and I feel every person I come across. I see the One inside, and all the many representations surround me. I can’t get over it.
Now I’m here with another poem. Let it ride the day if you read it, because it puts us together if you escape, because it’s here we learn to live again after your world has been taken away. Can you see me now? Can you hear?
The barriers of time, I don’t think you ride them very well. We come up against them all the time. They’re in our shoes. They hurt a lot. You can’t see this for the daylight, the great big prison playroom we are in. It’s got walls to it intrinsically built into each one. That’s where our cameras go. That’s how we feel this test.
Your loved one’s on the other side of the room bakin’ pies. In symbolic meaning that’s a round of thought comin’ your way. You’re separated by time’s barriers. You can’t get at each other in the physical sense. Great big surprises come your way when you do, cramped experience that puts relationship to the test. You hold them there sweetly, and then you may never see them again.
You don’t know what’s up, what’s goin’ on. I’ve left my poem alone in a fire so heartfelt in love’s embrace. I can’t get at the tires, or maybe death’s got your door, and your dog’s died, the great big sloppy-lickin’ dog of your life, and no ma’am I haven’t just lost a dog. I’ve lost a reality so big it took up half my room. She was always there lickin’ paws next to my life. Losing her took my front teeth— my daughter you know.
She’s melting time’s barriers tryin’ to see me. I don’t think you know the cough of this universe. It’s horrifying. I see her damn near every day tryin’ to reach through vision to get me near to her. Death’s reality would spook you if you knew it’s there. I’ve muscle on this, but I’m pigeon-toed. I can’t just hold my girl like she’s right up against me. I hold her paw in some astronaut’s gleaming Interstellar there at the back of the house. The confines of death, they break us apart.
The muscle of time, do you know it’s there? It separates you from everything— one little lonely being at a time. Times barriers put us in a single physical space where we can’t figure each other out. We laugh out loud, then cry.
You’re a pickup truck that can’t pick anybody up. You hold yourself the station of the universe, but you can’t move a goddamn thing if others block you. They are themselves the center station too. The great paradox of life makes you powerless to act where you would give your right eye to act but cannot, in those places most meaningful to you you have no power over. You sit in time scaling your life, a sheer wall of belief and hard fact, never any top in sight. What are you doin’?
It puts us to the test. Time’s warriors bake and sell us at the flea market, but this is not why you’re here, and you last longer than Heaven, a safe haven at the back of the house to get our strength back but that can trap us too. We are so much bigger than death that blinds us all while we’re still alive. Hold your child close. Can you protect him from anything bigger than your arms of control? Fiend death my friend, he sucks. What’s the answer to all this? What are we doing?
The answer lies on a page in a WordPress blog? Definitely, if you know how truth presents itself. It’s not haughty and it don’t wear spears. It might even be embarrassing, hittin’ in society’s low spot. It would be uglier than the norm, the vehicle of truth, but it would shore you up with sincerity if you test it. It would be one among a mass that your truth sense recognize, because it is beyond belief in name and form. It’s not part of the system that ensnares you.
Come to my party? There’s no snaking you there. You just have to realize what’s been true all along, but that you have never seen because it’s so represent itself, and you only see the representation, the figure in time, or the one who has wings to be your figure of God behind it you thought about a lot but never really met. The scientist would just see a meaningless void.
Can’t you see I got your skies on? I’m not pollutin’ the skies. I’m not anything wrong. Well how about that? I hold my boy in love’s embrace, and we figured out time. That’s the challenger for your social skies. I’m not doin’ business. I’m a love angle on time to make us greater in it. That’s the vehicle in the room. Can you dig it?
The limits of time, they are both normal and strange. You can’t be in two places at once a sudden trapdoor to a greater life. You are either who you are upstairs or the little I down there livin’ life. I’ve seen this juxtaposition, where I got out of time. It was a railroad. Greater times are comin’.
Now I just comb my hair and wash my face and shoot my gun? No I land this in your lap reachin’ through a poem to you. It’s fresh meat now, but where will I be when I am dead, and you’re readin’ these words? Look around the room. Am I there a thought stroke?
That’s life, you know the big one. Strict society belt won’t even let you think this to yourself. I’m bein’ looked in on by me with a question: how much longer you runnin’ half the house? You will have a future integral with who you are on high. My God this is big, and we meet time’s barriers down the because in the room. I’m comin’ after you foldin’ time, a lesson in reality completely out of the script. You’re gettin’ that script.
I’ve come all the way from the ground up. I’m not an existential crisis. I know who I am. I’ve been shot that’s all, ghosted by most everyone, put out to pasture. What do you do with that, and you identify with the world, hold it close your livin’ self? You have gone out of time and been the big who we are, enough to see it, enough to be it to know it’s there.
I’ve seen outside the symbolism, outside the roles we play. Even if you call it a computer simulation, figuring the unknown with the known, whatever you call it, I’ve been in compassionate reality, the bigger reality beyond this one. I’ve seen the real thing. No one counts this as a thing to be known where animals food our feeding faces as our reality, no depth to it, no meaning, nothing behind, except Gods to worship and obey or enlightenment’s sweepstakes that bring you empty shell.
Can’t you see beyond time? What’s bigger than the universe? Is that just empty skies? What’s bigger than playpens? I’m a figure on that. So like the show to give you the universal accepted scapegoat as the one to show. I can’t get my name in public. I can’t even write it down anywhere near heard. Is that just because I’m lying?
Can I show you my flag? It’s not rainbow screwed. It’s your heartbeat and mine symbolizin’ time. It’s where everybody goes to school. It’s the time of day in this poem. It’s where we all meet at the end of the classroom. I’m sorry it’s me, but hello I’m yours.
The terror is only a being in time. The face of evil, It can’t get at that larger you in transcendence’s sphere. It has no power there. It can only rattle your cage. Anything it does to you it’s not doing to you but to the actor in that cage. This is the meaning of no harm can come to you.
It’s beyond time time's relevant, time's keeper, truth's formula, but it can act within time and space with impunity, with absolute, unhindered power. It is bigger than evil. It has eyes on you, not to save your life but to bring you home. It does not stare you down. It doesn’t even guide you with any advice. It’s up there. You’re down here, but it’s comin’ to meet yah. It’s comin’ to be who you are down here. This is the plan of Earth, what her victory skies.
You are a crossroads to that. We are at Earth’s great turning point to land ourselves there. I am a seed bearer that is all. I come to tell you what’s comin’, and if my voice don’t get out someone else will. This is the mystery time hides, why it put you in a straight jacket, why it won’t leave you alone. Can you understand me? Do you see what I’m doin’? I’m meetin’ you with your maker who is you. I’m solvin’ the mystery of time. I’m giving you wings to grow. Take my hand please, these worded verses, and make it all worthwhile.
Protracted, a polar bear’s smile. It’s gonna take a long time to reach Supermind. It’s not there at our feet. It’s not your garden grow. It’s not at the hoof of your horse. It has to be as common as a cold for you to see it. The more people up there for a moment’s gleam, it holds you up there breakout sweepstakes.
This area’s comin’ into our view portal now the hesitancy in time. It’s comin’ your way in poems Emily Dickinson’s undiscovered continent she looks out on from her pier. Rumi’s love poem says you can only see the sun by the sun. Did we see him there? Now this poet speaks in plain as day. I’ve reminded you of Supermind in Savitri’s care. I’m just the outcast that says it.
Now hold me close. You don’t have to do nothin’, just read the poem the miles that you work today, the poem that you reach today. It’s such a piano to look at the subway and see supernal skies. Stand the subway of time. Is that tomorra mornin’?
Emergency level truth’s barriers, time’s walls. There’s a lot goin’ on. Right at the turning point. Except for the money I wanna tell you somethin’. Your morality drinks beer. You’re not the captain of the ship people. You’re who we go to to take our stories off. Right here for you on your mark, get set… The restrict we have, we put it on things. We use safety to protect ourselves from safety. Actually a lot right here. We’re movin’ on. What’s your plan, bring us all to safety? That one சாவி, I’m inside a poem.
What is the reality of love? Also whisper. Facebook items, the key story homes. Nothing else taps it. I go through generations. Hear what was going on, my falsehood— I will stop him from going into silent night, silent ground.
But the graces of life protect me, and I look over it. I’m a field study. I’m an alpha nigger, higher than perfume. I get into cars, laptops and computers, and go the distance. I recharge my phone with the very ground of being.
I am so low I see high. Humility has me by the balls. I come upon sudden mastery. I’m not about to endanger your skies, and I have the formula for world change. We can’t brag about it. It’s hard on all of us. I just sit here and die in my tin can, and then all of a sudden I’m walkin’ the moon to its orbit. I have the sun in my eyes, and I don’t blink.
I know the power of the world. I am sure God’s there. I see Him on His rounds. I am commensurate with that on the top of myself at dawn. Nowhere in my being reaches that but there. It’s a knowledge I breathe that I can’t get out of, and I’m a little man doing little things as the day wears on. I don’t pride there.
I’m never alone. My inside is full of deity. You better be careful. I’m on the standin’ line of deity watchin’ the world, because I know They’re there. We need to open up and see this in each other. We are both stations of God, you and me reader. I die there sometimes the knowledge is so heavy, immense. I just stand and take it and come back to joy before long.
I know the knowledge that made the worlds, and it tears me apart, because the power does not come to me to change one single goddamn mind, to reach out and be seen, heard, to bring my child out of trouble, to even know the wind of the day. I am a barrel of monkeys to what it takes to perk up the world, and I have seen the world from God’s eyes, in a station beyond the universe right here intimate with man, a few glory-filled seconds, long enough to know the origin of all my lives, long enough to know that I am He, long enough to look up and see more.
You would not know what I’m talking about. It’s bigger than size and measure. It’s what the worlds was made. I can’t get away from that vision now. Oh how we but little grasp our day, little doings we try to put in big pots, but I know the pot you see. Can I study you the stars? They are wonderful in magic, are the Heavens we adore, but they do not bring us to God, and it’s God on Earth wore.
Can I tell you about history? Knock, knock, God is entering every room on the planet to happen here. This is inevitability rides the sun, and the years are carrying us there, one by one, evolution’s minutes wrote. Are you startled to see this? This is not a junk call. This is the hypotenuse of time, and high and lonely seers, we grasp this with our hands and spill the beans to you.
Are you sure you’re puttin’ me on hold? I have more to tell. I’m gettin’ down to bare bones now. I’m showing you creation’s ways, and I can see the world arise right in front of me. Awesome, ain’t it?
What do we do with it? We put it in its place. We don’t let it get away from us. We know that every day can work out the formula of impossibility and solve it. I’m referrin’ to us, where we love each other and why, and how do we make that love true? It’s the danger of the years, love’s high gamble in the face of certain death. We lose each other you see, and that just kills us. We hold our loved ones we hold death. How’s that for a keeper?
What brings the salvation before we cross that gap between love and death? A spiritual consciousness that’s bigger than us, and I’m sorry there’s no other remedy. Love hurts. Enlightenment’s wings unheed pain, and we do not suffer the pain of loss.
I’m there you see, in loss looking at the spiritual consciousness. I’ve put it on a time or two, short flashes that tell me know it’s there. It’s surety that rings it, sooner or later.
Now laugh at me, slap me, ignore me; I’m on ground-field Earth liftin’ up the sky. Shoot me; I’m a real thing, a genuine who done it, made the grass match the stars. Roll the planet down, and I’ll ride it like a speaker. Yah hear me kids?
This is what’s going on, and God opens His eyes. Tryin’ to interview Pitch Thought about his character, you gotta draw the line somewhere. Ode to the line, a good friend to you, I think your security blanket, and I’m a top down answer.
I had a momentary experience. It’s all written. I had a visionary experience of every local thing on Earth realizin’ dream to catch up with God, and you had just told me look bread. Oh, I didn’t realize it was me. Anyway, look bread.
Video description: Nithish wrote this song in school after finally being able to spend a significant amount of time with me after six months of not seeing me. It came all at once, sung to him line by line by the inner voice. It was sung to the tune of “Daylight” by David Kushner, and I did the best I could to make it sound like that song when I took the wrapper he wrote it on and put it to my guitar. I was able to consult with him during that process.
Losing a child in circumstances where the child also loses you his parent sets up heartbreak on a level of suffering that is simply hell, for the parent and the kid, because your kid isn’t dead; your daddy isn’t dead. Both are in easy seeing distance but cannot even talk on the phone or message each other, and that is a knife that does not stop stabbing as time goes on. As long as that kid’s a kid, and even after, and as long as that daddy’s a daddy, hope assails you in the same place as despair, and all the bad voices are saying bye, all the good voices are saying hi. Now you can hear the song. He loves his daddy.
To know on the edge of your screaming that you’re gonna be alright, to see it plain as day in the darkness, you go on steam engine, you take your task with God.
I don’t know if it’s gonna rain mud puddles in my mind, firecrackers in my heart, but I’ll be okay. The world has caved in, and sunshine has found me lying in the sun.
Do you know sleep? Do you know how to sleep? It’s a ridin’ all night long the team fellows of the mind with what you need to know liberty while you’re still in bonds. It’s a conscious sleep. You hear it talk to me now.
You can’t spend me. I’m a waste of your time, but I will speak to you from the hours the training of the ways, deep soliloquies of love that hasn’t found its purpose yet but challenges the world with it anyway.
You will laugh at me, but I know time like you know your own hair, and I can stand up and sing when God is killing me. What is a poet for? Can I quote my little boy? It’s for blankets in the sea. I can only grasp his hand in verse. I can’t see him anymore.
Whales sing, and they bring in the ocean round to itself. It’s more than call letters. It’s an attempt to dare fate and expose ourselves to bright shiny blades, so we can give time its meaning, even if that’s just a language cloak. You sit there and read us those bright and shiny blades.
Fuck you I love you the poet says. Nithish did you hear that? It’s how we meet the world Planet Us and not die in the telling. We undress in front of the world and give it its mic, all the while singing our hearts out in front of I don’t care.
I am loud in a sea storm, Prometheus battles night on top of an angry world because he’d brought fire down of the Gods into the people of his sleep, and lit the poet’s tongue on daily cares, common battles, and everyday falls to know we are more than these.
I have started my journey. I feel like I wanna be dead. But why? Someone have to stop this school before kids die.
I need help please stop these dictators. Kids need power too if kids to live in this world in peace. I ask myself God please help me. Forsake have you?
It takes a power in India. I let me talk of light/God I to the world. I will be in heaven if I am able to be in peace.
I have started my journey. I am gonna see my old mind, and I am gonna write till I see no more. I seen God. I need way to escape from reality. Have they heard God or have they saw a kid talk to God? Well I have a spark of power now.
I am in sea with sea monsters. His eye was bigger than my head. I feel ashamed of myself.
Chapter 2
I have started my journey. Am I really pissed off? I ask you that or do I ask me that maybe? I should ask the world.
I shall be born again in my mind. Please look me in the eye and talk to me. They shot my head off, threw me in fire, stabbed me.
I can only hear the light, but can you go? I am stuck as one. I am three, but people only see one and judge me looking at my face.
I tell them judge me after looking in my inner soul. Are we kids gonna die without living life a little? I am very strong my muse. I have to protect the light from another somebody from stealing it.
I always say goodnight, sweet dreams, but who’s there to that for me? God help I am homeless. I have opened my pen to write me.
This poem is a prevision of the future. Nithish wrote it from spiritual vision some months before the horrible situation he’s describing happened to him, when he was taken from my home by his mother, where he lived during the week, visiting his parents on the weekends. That is the journey he started. They did bad things to him, but the worst has been what they have done to his heart by doing Nazi-like things to him to kill his love for me and keep him from having contact of any kind with me, although for the first two months he called me in secret telling me of the abuse, and of course we have inner contact in spiritual vision, or I do; this also has been killed in him by his parents in their attempts to kill his love for me. He doesn’t write poetry anymore, no longer hears his muse, or very little.
I need to mention that school for Nithish is the worst thing in the world. He’s been badly abused for his dyslexia in school, both physically and emotionally, and his parents would never allow me to get him tested for the learning disability. But in this poem, school represents where he gets his life lessons, and that takes place at home too. The muse, the inner voice of poetry, uses the symbols that you know, and, if you have some preconceived idea, it won’t override it but use that in the place of what would more represent the truth. That’s going on here with his use of the word school to describe what is going on in his home with his parents.
He was not just split in two, having to have one face to his parents and another to me, but there was the Nithish alone to himself he had to try and honor also, and so when he’s speaking of being three people, not just one, that’s what he’s talking about. Since the source of his abuse came from his parents punishing him for continuing to love me and wanting to see me, not to mention betraying their bedroom sins to me, he became completely silent about me with anyone he didn’t trust, did not even mention my name, let alone say want to see me.
On the phone he told me that he had to do that because they were treating him very badly, like he was poison, because he had caused all this trouble for his family and brought shame on it, and so, he told me, he had put on a fake smile, but he was really sad inside. So he was one person to his family and another to me, and still another to himself. I cannot tell you what this does to a child, especially one that is right this very second beginning the body changes into adolescence. Mental illness of some sort will ensue at some point. If I am unable to bring him home, I believe the boy will become a psychopath like his father, who has murdered four men in cold blood for his gang.
I have the flower in my head. I just want to get it in the light. Can I just be in my life? Can I just get my life back?
I am running to the light again. Pull me up so I can join you. For next level it’s coming up.
I am crying I need sleep. They call me poison. That’s not my name I am Nithish. Why do you care will show my name to the world going down the road?
Ha! can you see that coming? That’s the new world formed. Pass it can you hear me out? Let me get back home. I am very loud if you know— your smartass come from the divine.
I am blinded from the light. Is that it that’s the start of the border? Wanna go beyond? Let’s go to the spark of soul that’s a frost fire running out of school. Run with me hear the bird. Run with me for good.
They judge me by any downfall. Well see my poem from God. Have you met my birds? To the surface we can go to New York, get the jet ski fly away from ground.
If you have been reading these posts of Nithish’s poetry, then you know he’s writing this from spiritual vision, meaning he’s not making it up; it’s spoken into his inner ear and he writes it down. This a poem he wrote while at school some months before he was taken from his home at the lake. In one fell swoop he lost his whole life, me, Douglas, his dogs, his own room, his new computer, the farm, the lake, all of it, and he has not been allowed to return or visit me since, anywhere, call me on the phone, have anyone give him message of me, or view his YouTube channel. Read the last post to see why his parents have done this, and you will suspect, as I do, that they have abuse they are hiding, and they know the boy will tell me if he sees me alone long enough, and they are preventing that.
I don’t think I need to interpret this poem line by line. It’s obvious what he’s talking about, but what’s extraordinary about it, miraculous, is that he wrote this months before the he would be in the situation he’s speaking about, so his future self could read it and understand what is going on. His ‘wokeness’ to his situation comes and goes, more goes than comes actually, if my spiritual vision of him is correct, but I do know from others telling me that he is silent about me and the life that was taken from him, does not even mention me or it. That sure does make me think, and the purpose of his poetry, why he wrote it to his future self, was to make him think, understand what has happened to him, and stand up for himself. I do not understand spiritual process, all this miracle just to go to the garbage can of his mind, be deleted. He has as yet no interest in reading it.
Bless on shoulder what got in there. Very message your message to Nithish. That’s how he finds out it’s in his room now. How will I know he even reads it? YouTube channel, check there. I’m a message there.
One step for the game. Did the little boy see me? In his underpants, no dice. He would’ve cried if he could. He was on description. It was long and short. This buried him in memories. Wherever he had imagined he would live, never was it away from me.
We’ve got to get along here, so we can get back together. I don’t know fantasies. I hate being played with. I don’t know if he saw anything. I only know it hurts deep inside, and insanity has returned, and the walls are closing in. There’s no way outta here!
The passage of time is like hours that crawl through hell, and I am so deep underwater there’s no way up. The waves a grief tear at my throat, over and over again. Oh little boy I would like this fantasy real, and the Anarchs that play with me fuck you! Are you in my description my wonderful little baby dog?
It’s a thumbnail on your disease: get me all this food. Do you remember that? How can you forget our time together? Where have those memories gone? How do we find them? I’m sittin’ here livin’ with ‘em, and they bring on such tears. They’re crowding my life away, and I can’t see you anymore.
This is too much for me sure pet. It’s the infinity in the room. It’s eating me alive, and I’d almost rather die than be here, but I know that’s not true. Death is hell. I can’t do this. I need relief from my pain. You are gone forever aren’t you? This I cannot take.
Your form is haunting me. I feel you walk up to me over and over. It’s like you’re almost there. I feel you live and breathe, and this is too insane to think about, but I feel you baby dog, like you’re right here!
This is insane take, and I don’t know what I’m doing with you, and you’re all normal and not surprised that you’ve forgotten grief. I hate this undershed upnoodle. The ways of insanity go deep. The Anarchs of pain have arrived, and I will be shot dead soon. We just have left the rifle shot.
Claustrophobic, it’s the air I breathe. It’s on my downtown, and I can’t get outta here. It tries in space and blows it apart, and I just get snot on my nose. Oh Nithish I love you Nithish.
Wait a minute, that’s you, actually you, comin’ to me again. Insanity by the hours, I’m not goin’ crazy. I'll be comin' for yah, honey dog, on the edge of tomorrow, within the next fews days. How do I know this is true? Read my blog. Put us together on WordPress. Compliment to go, I’m so excited.
Harm's End 