i CANT

me and my mother,

were the same and excruciatingly different.

like a dried sponge in the sun,

that I'm sure was once soft, once useful.

is now hard, cores and unforgiving.

moulded to the shape it was rested in.

my mother is the sun, i am the sponge.

i am empty.

"He who cannot forgive breaks the bridge over which he himself must pass".--George Herbert

excuse me,

i dont mean to impose, but i am the ocean.

seven nine's and ten's

lately ive been thinking alot about my thumbs.

ive been spending quite some time apreciating them

during everyday activities.

for example, drinking my glass of water, how would we

hold a cup without aposable thumbs?

what would cups look like if not for these wonderful

gifts?

and how would the cups be made, without the ease of grip

and movement that comes with aposable thumbs?

EVERYTHING would be different without them.

new things would exist, and so many things that exist

in this magical aposabble thumb world, would not.

like buttons (the sewing kind.)

i cant help but think of the endless list of objects that

would nolonger resemble the version of the object we

enjoy with ease in this lucky world of thumbs. like

pens, gear sticks, sewing machines, phones, remote

controles, zips, magic wands.

how could we even gesture that everything was fine and dandy

without thumbs?

and im sure after, now yourself, also giving it some

thought you would have too relised that circular knobs,

like the kind you use to controll the volume on your sterio

(unless of course you want to go ahead and be a smart

ass and agrue that you infact have buttons you click)

wont even exist. and what the fuck will a jam jar look

like? or jars of any variaty? without these splendid

aposable thumbs, how would it be possible to open

anything of a circular shape that requires a circular

motion and a firm grip.

i could continue onto yet even more questions on balls

(yes, i am regetibly aware of the conintations of such word),

tying shoelaces and bowling, but its way past my bed

time.

Mega shark vs Giant octopus

reminiscence is plentiful,

mountains and caves of secrecy.

i don't want your name any more,

or your empty whole, your silver stare,

your infection, your embellishments,

and certainly not your egotistical assumptions.

your the rust on my car door,

and the mold in my bathroom tiles.

your this one single ripe pimple on my forehead,

your an example to deterioration.

So ill leave you right here, in this bottle,

soaking in your notorious scent,

a mixture of vodka and versace' cologne.

and i will never entertain your name again.

redbull and hotdogs

a refrigerator is the opposite of a drug addict.

because a Refrigerator starts in a cardboard box and then moves into a house.

The Fattest Neck In Hardcore.

this isn't your world, nore mine.

we are not measured by space, or time.

fuck young love