Everyday is hard not to think about the past
And I think about the day when it’s no longer part of me,
deep sleep of nothingness, no more attachment to it,
when it stops caring about me.

The sorrow is stubborn,
Caused by brain chemistry.

Synchronicities sometimes are the only way to remember that I am part of something that is bigger than all this
Remember: the last time all my hinges fell loose, and I spun and fucked the Universe until I was whole and no longer existed and I saw the Truth, no one else could see it or take it,
but the last time I thought I’d lost it—which was the goal-- the energy put in was lost in the reaction so the product almost matched the reactant,
I wanted the whole fucking compound to reform to something different.

Something inside of me grows,
I must have swallowed a seed.

The place deep inside the chest, right in the center, under the bone, electrocuting some organ
Is a violent heart attack manifesting itself, makes me breathe shallow.

Really
All the tears I could ever need to cry have been cried, but they keep surfacing—
Dry, invisible—
But the fish keeps floating at the top of the fishbowl and the bugs keep crawling inside of the window and the mirror on the wall is swept up daily and the weeds in the garden make my hands feel scaly (soft, her hands),

I would like to destroy with brute force the rhythmic Center of the pendulum.

Now I don’t have friends,
Because I fucked them all.
I have inanimate, unchanging snapshots of time: books,
my dirty whores, I in myself a gang of unending hungry rapists,
read once as quickly as possible,
discard,
rarely think about them,
move on.

I don’t want to die,
but the monotony is sucking me dry.

The Sun and all Time
took all the moisture from my eyes and I wonder how long it is until I’ll die,
sink back into nothing, not even nothingness, blank absence of consciousness,
unless It happens to be the compulsive astral need to Fuck,
like it was on Speed, in dreams. Not moving or still but stuck as a puppet.

The speed of seeds is very slow,
but if you let them,
they will grow.

They will likely birth more seeds,
in the end all plants will die.