Negative Supposition

There comes a time your brain just says, you know what?
fuck you.
fuck you system, fuck you people, fuck you everyone and fuck yourself everything.
I'm gonna go right ahead with this and do what feels good.
So what if I did at one point hold the contention that somewhere I wasn't being fair, I'm not doing good.
And what am i supposed to think of it as then?
a preoccupation?
a flavouring?
a bonus?
a mistake?
And how , just how am i supposed to sit in there and swallow all this new information, and disallow the directon unto which my underlying thoughts do but crawl, in there merest existance protruding way beyond the artful yet entuned beat of a pat?

but lets not be Poesk about it, she thought.

Sigh..Honest,
the place...or the time in my life,
somewhere the colour isnt matching,
but it is always the imperfections that become our obsessions,
if not atleast that which entralls us to them,
atleast somewhere...

anyway, a redolent shower awaits me.

...warpwall

passive

you see it
the moment passes by
leaving a billion images in your head
unfinished thoughts
surprise circumstances
i dont want to fucking disappoint you
maybe youre better off this way
which way do we go?
yellow situations
with green borders
and steel framed ricks.

Questspeak

Once again my life has reached that point, where I dont know if the fog is getting thicker or lifting, but I know something's up.
I couldn't care less about materiality (in terms of the future), but I dont want to forget how to feel. I dont want to feel awkward when I write. I want to collect my ideas, I want every electrical impulse in my brain to be executed, I want to be inspired.
I want to draw, so what if it looks like a four year old's doodles, atleast I got it out of my system.
"A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and gets to bed at night, and in between he does what he wants to do." - Bob Dylan

I must do what I want to do.