pouring of mind...

[machinery]

yeah, hope for healing, devastation, loss of feeling, whatever you want to call it. I guess you could say I am reaching out to the past. Pain is a hard because it comes new every time..and this time, it's winning hands down. I'm at fault.

[machinery]

My heart is on a coaster. Resting - breathing, heaving. Heavy on what doesn't matter and drowning in what does. It beats for survival. It beats to see the top of the water glisten. Once more it will squint at the sun. Eyes rush through the cold structures of night. Gliding through visions on a calm wing, floating like an elevator, smooth descention. Creases in my skin, the beak bites into the back of my neck. The bird leaves frantically, only to hit the walls of my mind. My skin reminds me of an irregular autumn. I am rough textured. I am grooved from the beatings (the thoughts, the actions, the feelings) I have adminstered myself. Every night, I try and find meaning- for myself, for my life. Never can I hide from my fear- myself. I will always ruin in my sleep.

[machinery]

This is nothing really. Just me ranting. I am burnt out right now. Time to go back to Ginsberg and get inspired.

[parch]

i liked "ruin in my sleep"....and this poem reminded me of native americans...no idea how, but i saw a cartoon heart floating in a lake on some native american landscape painting where there's mist everywhere and you feel so 'cool.'....so chillled.
ok...but now i just read it again...and its completely different..anyway..
i like it..
you seem to be in a bit of despair..its like a hope for healing.
___---parch

[machinery]

You know, now that I look at this, I really don't like it. I think there are some great lines and some great ideas in this paragraph, but all together, it's not what I want to call mine. It's a mindless rant...maybe that's all it should be.