There had been many visits to this room

There had been many visits to this room

In my mind.

From yous of the past

I see especially you, mother

Like sticky honey on the floor of memory

Taking with it all that is in me

To that place I was at some point before

That I can never leave

No matter how much of it I cannot even remember

The honey though

Is there

To keep things sticky

and dirty 

with the honey

in rows upon rows or tiny dots of dirt

to keep things dirty and stuck in place

But you, yes you, I loved you, you know. 

In a sense I will never admit to myself

That love i will struggle ever to admit to you

Indemnity

 You were the only one                  

The only one

The only one

The only one

That gave a f****.

You listened

You really listened.

When everyone else just looked away at a thing that wasn't hopefully happening

Because they didn't want to have to be responsible for the thing that was happening

Right before their f****** eyes.

Because that meant they were a bad person

Yes, not only a bad person,

 A VERY bad person

Because they were not helping another person.

Because YOU SEE, they weren't watching an ACTUAL "person."

Because what was happening right in front of them from this "person,"

Was not coming from a person....

Bear with me. 

Because that would mean they were a person like that "person" was a person.

And maybe that "person" was maybe a person,

Like they were a person

But that's f****** crazy!

Because that "person" that was actually a f******* person
Was/is crazy!
And that crazy "person" was absolutely not a f****** person.

Like they were a person.

Because they were definitely a person!

Oh definitely!

And that "person" was not a person

Because if that "person" was a person

They would have to be a good person and help that person
REALLY HELP that person

And they couldn't possibly, somehow, someway be a person because that "person" is most certifiably not a person.

It's just a thing.

Distractions

Distractions,

They distract you.

They're there

And you're there

And you want to be distracted

Because lets face it,

You didn't entirely enjoy waking up today.
You wanted that feeling in your chest you wake up with every single Fing day to maybe just once not be there.
That feeling not quite in your chest but in your chest and in your head at the same time.
That feeling that tells you only one thing

That that deep depressing feeling you feel 

Stems from a lack of walking where you

You know, 

You know, 

You KNOW

You should go.

But thank God you have distractions.

T-Shirts

Plants

Dogs

Friends

The news 

Fing anything.

Apocalypse

How cryptic can you get?

How categorically we have submitted ourselves to this fantasy of fantasies

How stereotypical our defeat will be

If there is no emotion evoked there is no art

Maybe I've been going at this all wrong.

Art is perhaps not the exact emotion of the moment (lines perhaps do not have to be exact, like a photograph)

But art is the estimation, personal interpretation of the emotions of life. 

Just as a soul must be,

So lines are not lines,

Shapes are not shapes,

Its not a ruler you need for art,

it's a soul 

Will tea time fix this?

No.

Will buying things fix this?

No.

Will reading fix this?

No.

Will listening to music fix this?

Slightly, but still no.

Will I be able to fix this?

I don't think so.
i mean, so far I haven't been able to find a way. So...,

No.

Will God fix this?

I have a strong gut feeling,

Yes.

 I slipped but I'm sober now.

 There is no lock on my heat

The door is wide open

There was nothing here to start

They took everything before my first words were spoken