Self: keep track of these text messages

I don't wanna fight a war with doo doo on my face - adam
I am STIMULANT GAWD! - rahel
Fuck a horse with a 2 by 4 - kyle
God, cartel was such a great fucking band - danyo
Gareth lim is such a little dick - chase
Tiny dresses pink violet black why do fat girls insist - kelli
thanks, that's good to know. its defunct now, and i'm broke, so i guess it doesn't matter one way or the other. but blunt later this week - logan
we probably both pot a s on our paper - robin
moses is being really standoffish to his new sis. decided to go upstairs this morning away from her - mother
wait? .e tooooo!!! - rahel
when are we gonna do mushrooms - ashley
Johannesbourough fuckin' A - chase
sorry for messing up - cambray
Who wants to go grocery shopping with me? - logan
Thad you will fail class when we have it tomorrow morning because it is our last class
Will you listen to I'm so tired for me? - kyle
Tommy is drunk and crying while chopping onions. he keeps saying "fuck you, onions. fuck you. the more I hurt you the more I hurt". he doesn't know I'm home. - rahel
dede...super cool or super bitch? Or super cool bitch? Or super bitchin and cool? Or cool and super bitch? Or super cool and/or bitch? - chase
No way! Hero! - robin
Son of a bitch bastard - adam
Gaineet iced indiffi illesyog monie.fi glumma gee.b.b.nonmo.b.charlie ? - ben



there are a couple things that I know I need to write about in my lifetime, but have found it impossible to even attempt thus far. They crinkle my vision and burden my chest and etc/. They come in flashes, I ignore them, let slip a whimper, and go about a walk or drink with better times.
They nibble at me daily, I don't know exactly what to do with them.

I am young. time will bring words to my thoughts. yes?

"patience is your ally"-batman


Number 9 (124/10)

what if i named every piece of work i did (painting, prose, poetry, music, etc) what if i named everything "NUMBER 9". this poem is called "NUMBER 9". it is the first of its kind, number nine:

I'm on the edge of my seat here
in the city of stranger people

my chest is on the edge of itself.
I don't know if it is a natural consequence
if I am hungry, starving, losing conscious.
my chest is out of me, I am jittery without it, starving starving.

Words from ONLY some darling
quicken my existence
I feel her message forwarded towards the end of everything
The night is so quick it is unsettling

give myself peaceful smoke
to meander silently into the eve
become a small dazzling light in the distance
small, alive, wished upon wondered
gather the dust between YOU and ME

I need sand to bury my feet in
shore in my ear to lay me down
Hear of the other sea in the shells
shut the traps
the doors are down
the endless invisible waters
Are you thinking of me?

soft. sweet. tired. cup of caffeine
transform my sight and my actions
in time I execute my future tongue
by digging into the holes of thought
there is never so much
as every vaguery of "ALL"

I will now talk about "ALL":
In saying it and "nothing"
I empty myself over the keyboard.
display an array of every hungry inside
that pokes its head down in my head's cavern
dark dripping pillars
down on down towards the shitter
of the future of other tongues
publish publisher publication

These hours I've worked my head in a way so that
I cannot find my place back in the seat and the table.
I sprint and tumble about in the empty space between
a YOU and a ME

Sitting requires starving your baby
and I owe a drugged up panic to that
baby building himself a rabid panther
dashing without eyes, towards his brothers !
It's Me! My friends!!!!!!

quiet quiet quiet
quiet. QU(IET.
this city is underwater,
the people have gills
and I do not, but I wander
my body finds a tunnel
and my soul continues

chatter on chalky bulk unstable under pressure deeper swollen murky residue
little for the best
give a little for the best
and a littler for the rest.
Once you're open like this
you cannot speak.