It should Have Been Said Yesterday.

I now have a pen of my own.
Meeting friends also on their way home.
Head swelling, bad writing, keep on writing I found a pen after all.
Am I tempting fate by assuming this position?
Higher ground I guess.

A paragraph that felt like an eternity passes by me, I am just the blink of an eye.

Less somber mood than earlier no doubt my little green friend has a hand in that.
Jaw still clenched, starting to feel claustrophobic in this skull.

So many words to get out of my head this is only the beginning, good place to start.
Brief instructions sparing all unnecessary detail.
This is the end, good place to finish really...
But time is a human invention so maybe it's not.

Watched them descend the glass staircase.
Instructions to vague, time to elaborate.
VOID the last statement visual contact has been made.
Am I starting to sound like someone else?
That's rhetorical.

Today.

The water is creeping closer, it wants to drag me in.
I walked for hours, didn't find anything but I didn't know what I was looking for.
Lights are signaling me from the distant shore (sure).
I consider my suicide note without the suicide.
I get a call I need to verify my little brothers age, I lie and he is thankful.
I'm sitting on the edge of the river writing with a borrowed pen, I guess it's kind of romantic.
I want to accomplish something.
"It's been 30 days out here 15 left to go" he growls.

That Day.

Once again I am using my discretion and removing a post which needed to be destroyed.

Freedom.

How is your life now your free from the screaming hands of the institution.
Still covered in mucus and blood or feeling free and drawing in the air you now know is your future.
It seems so fresh and pure when the gunk is dislodged from your throat, you draw the first breath of sweet and perfect oxygen.
If a moment could last forever we could be, but we no longer exist because we are the moment.
.................................................................................

I apologise for taking a moment from you but I needed it for myself.

Drag, Sex and Aresholes.

Cretans of the night we spill down the lighted street flamboyant dresses swirling red lipstick smeared across our gaping maws.
Vomiting the poison from our swollen bellies while spinning in circles reveling in our own inebriated stupidity.
Snorting pigs turn up to fine us $75 for our obvious freedom and the threat we pose as alluring males in dresses.
They pose questions with obvious answers; "are you wearing a dress?".

Our screeching swarm of eccentric colour and mirth stumbles back toward our base of merriment.
Accosted along the way by beings so insecure they project there fear of what they truly are on those who are without fear.
Violence ensues but when the physical attack is nullified by a lack of fear and a persistent man who tries to enlighten them over and over they go home questioning everything they have convinced themselves.
As we walk away we are crying for the world which is truly being corroded by the creatures inhabiting it.
It seems almost unbelievable that such a vast array of experience and emotion can be forced into one evening.

Fuck.