there are dogs in puppy kennels here, and a tired mind.  sometimes i wish i was 17 again.  but really i don’t.  there were too many wishes and too many heart jerks.

i need a way to channel energy and frustration, and most of all disappointment.  right now it’s all bottled in knots and is sitting right above my liver.  i feel their little bird eyes staring into the pit of my stomach, making it hard for words to form and pain to lift. i shouldn’t use fire and smoke anymore to cure the ache, but i think it’s hard to let go of the things i trust the most.  especially when all the persian rugs have been lifted from my toes.  intricacy and talent evaporates too quickly, sometimes leaving me in snow up to my ankles.  lets hope it doesn’t get any deeper this winter.  i hate being rooted, as much as i love trees and other things of stationary beauty, i can’t quite rap my chakra into a house like they can their bark.

my computer keeps typing random j’s in random places in these random thoughts of mine.  maybe a ghost of my soul is trying to escape from jjjjjjjjjjjjjj key.  jmaybe i should just leave them in the places they show up.  ji wonder why, but jit happens most often at the start of sentences.  maybe it’s just trying to help me get a move on these bits of uncooked meat in my vocal chords.
jthey just show up.  their little jbullshit dots staring into my pupils, reminding me of the ants that rob my dreams at night.  i feel their little footprints on the backs of my eyes carrying the colors and accuracy of sleep photography from my memory.

i bite my lips a lot lately. no chapstick will cure this aching to act as if my cerebellum is occupied.  really, i think i do it just to seem as if i’m discontent with the flowers that grow from my mouth.  that’s all they are.  blooms of pink and gray, blue and red.  useful only for my own enjoyment and odor.  my perfume doesn’t even sometimes cover the stench of such unearthly meanderings that flow forth from my pores.  maybe when those flowers are pictured under my skin, people will understand the way i need sunlight, security, and warm skin to brush against.  at least i understand it.  and maybe it will help others desire to be soulful as well.

as far as ego is concerned, i’ve been doing some thinking because of how much it turns into a storm of hurricanes and tornadoes of my frustration lately.  i need to understand it in order to forgive myself for it.  and i’m starting in on the long process of seeing those flowers of green and gold.  how can i understand and forgive anyone without first forgiving and understanding my aging petals and the mites inside them?  i think it will take a lifetime to understand, and therefore i intend to utilize the power of forgiveness often and willingly, hoping people around me are willing to do the same for my mistakes.

i wonder if you think of things like these at all, or if it’s all rhythm and exploratory demands on the number center of the brain.  no wonder herbs help calm desires of humans like you.  i believe you have come to an early acceptance of all things in this universe rhythmic and patterned.  i have been coming to understand your mystery, but i will never understand it enough to stop wanting to grow from it’s seed of patience, and the most welcoming greens of green at it’s center.  you are the anchor i’ve been looking for i think.  but i will always be moved my your indecisive noises, and flame in your heart.  you will forever leave me a bit clueless and that’s the way it should be.

i love you.

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