There is more than just me in here.

Fairly often, I feel like there are a few versions of me stuck fighting one another in my already cramped body.  Usually it's the part of me that wants to experience life Vs. the part of me that wants to experience ruining my day over and over and over again.... haha.  I've had a good life so far and I'd like to acknowledge that it really hasn't been that hard.  In other news, I was at Costco today and I bought a rice cooker.  It is fucking tight.  The end.  I also bought a giant thing of shampoo.  Now it's time for poetry.

____________________________________

WHAT WAS IT?

Lazy eyes and face pour out
To fill "The Nothing Bowl"
So determined
Straining to not strain.

There is a lid on this cup.
Pressed edge for airlocked love.

A sort of weeping without speech
Or audible sound,
Behind glass
Needlessly drowned out by the
Constant whining, death rattle
Of a weak soul
Long acquainted but hardly known.

Projection is the fear of my fear.
Typical tapestries woven
Of old metaphors
Allowing for the possibility
Of a new drug:
Illusion
______________________________________

361/365  k thx bai.