noimpressionlackingpassion

[noimpressionlackingpassion]

Im done dumping, there may be more eventually.

[noimpressionlackingpassion]

born to cry i just couldnt see

that tears would be unbecoming of me

unfortunately

tears would be unbecoming if me

i shut my eyes

i can not see

i brave for harsh

reality

he preaches strength

and sanity

an example that

he couldnt be

oh guide me god

i can not see

im blind to cold

reality

im blind to tears

if i cant see

im made of iron

in eternity

though rust remains

i worship me

a stuatue in

a time to be

returned to one

in front of me

and linked to cold

eternity

if silence was

what couldnt be

of all that he could

mean to me

the birth remains

an affront to me

of all i was

determined to be

if god remains

who worships me

if god remains

who worships me

im measured in

reality

if god remains

who worhsips me

[noimpressionlackingpassion]

my minds purging my minds urging to move forward

i am centered on a truth that i haven’t seen before

but i let go i let go of the steps

i was too busy running

can’t remember how it felt

and i am left with

only the thought no idea how it got there

i am left with

everything i fought to put there

the dominoes ive stacked

are lined up in front of me

im too scared to knock them over

i don’t know what i’ll see

no i don’t know what this means

the blanks i cleared for building are all loooking up at me

and the under paintings covered

by thick white acrylic sheets

though i think i see the guidelines

of what i wanted myself to be

i don’t know what it took

to make me me

and i am left with

only the thought no idea how it got there

i am left with

everything i fought to put there

bruises are on me

i don’t know what they earned

scratched from seeking out

i can’t remember what i learned

and i wish i could go back

but i fear there’s no return

[noimpressionlackingpassion]

im trying to compact a lot here

okay?

im trying to compact a lot here

you could write essays essays

off my sentences

you could do numbers numbers

off my brain

all the things i could sustain

if you could only convert me

[noimpressionlackingpassion]

i can be your sick girl

the one who shifts your whole world

that one line in your memoir

she was so much smarter than me

i can be your sick girl

study me did i succeed

in all that i am offering

take all that i worked for

“but alas only i could go on”

i always knew i was a case study

case study me

i always knew i was a case study

there’s notes spilling out my body

[noimpressionlackingpassion]

can’t explain what’s going wrong with it now

the judas goats running from the slaughter house

preach and scream through bleating mouths

judas goat running from the slaughter house

the shepard is leaving the farm

put to pasture

chipped paint on the fence

gods gardens grown over

and spoiled with harm

to late to make me take to arms

to late to lie forgetten

[noimpressionlackingpassion]

and sometimes the rich I know I pain them

walk through their gardens don’t have to maintain them

though they take more than needed to sustain them

i think we’re all guilty of that

[noimpressionlackingpassion]

if i was normal i wouldn’t still be thinking aboht a circus im not sure was real

how can i attest to anything i don’t know how i feel

i don’t know what i saw and i don’t know how to deal

with all the things they say make me

what was i formed into and by whose hands

i’ve been falling so long it’ll hurt when i land

i’ve been falling so long i don’t what what i planned

than put me up there in the first place

[noimpressionlackingpassion]

can someone make me into something that’s not a masochist

i don’t want to get my fingers split

i keep dealing with the sores

left from the sting

of what i keep seeking out

blood will flow now

i will know how

blood will flow now

i will drain out

[noimpressionlackingpassion]

Can I find value in everything that I've said?

Im scared of my fingertips touching my head.

Im scared of the space that I find myself in and I don't like the story i'm writing, it feels like a tradgedy,

really what it really is never will be set in stone the way it seems,

with water eroding all that was thought to be permanent as it permeates through me

Reaching what was really there.

The substance inside of the substrate of my leaking mind of my decaying body and my wasted time.

it's hard to imagine a version of myself expanding

because all my art is so intrinsically linked, to acrylic paint and brass strings

every part of me feels so specific and determining of all the aspects of myself that exist to define me to root me in time and space and their end would undermine all that I thought I was

and i know that change is only end, in a way and that creation and destruction are inherently linked

but what if the bad parts of me were all that there were and I become less trying to kill them

and can they all die and still feel like acrylic paint and brass strings

Ash turned into new things

can all the cigarette smoke I breath turn into resin cities in my lungs

Can i swallow rock salt, and alcohol and cough out all the rot and mold inside me like i am being reborn into something clean

Does the film that remains make me

I hope that one day I will be found in the ashes of what I am

and the mud of what I will become, fertile and growing trees letting forests leap from the corpse

that I had contained myself in.

Becoming more than a body more than a name.

Surviving the last claim to time and sinking into what is with no one else knowing it.

And as for the flesh of what I was let it be consumed by time to fuel something new and better,

By whatever metric better is by whatever good means

Let the vultures come and feast on the remains of all time took because rot can not stay still

Creation and destruction unite at the end of me

[noimpressionlackingpassion]

i will not curse this land

i will not curse this land

bless where spilled my blood

i want something good to grow

finally

i want something good to grow

i want to cure this land

i want to cure this land

will they let me as i stand

i want to cure this land

[noimpressionlackingpassion]

i am young

waiting for my father

at the checkout

on the windowsill

i see a wasp

dying

slowly

suffering

clinging to life all the same

i watch the wasp

for minutes

particularly long minutes

i grew sympathetic to it

so desperate to live

so desperate to continue

its tiny meaningless life

my father finishes at the checkout

i think to ask

for him to help me save it

but before i can get the words out

the wasp is dead by his hands

and though

i do not cry often

i allowed myself

to cry for the wasp

it was so sudden

i had begun to hope

that it might escape

i had felt a certain bond

with the small creature

struggling

fighting

desperate

i wanted to at least

give it the chance to die free

under the sky

to which it was born

oops

my father says

it was only a wasp

[noimpressionlackingpassion]

so i sit i cry and i drink

and i wake up sore and hurting

and i tell myself

i will enjoy smelling the flowers on the way to work today

and i do

i open my eyes and i breathe

and i feel the wind on my face

and i look into the sun

until it almost makes me feel dirty

until it makes me feel exposed

i do not belong out here

with these happy people

but i go into my job and i smile

i smile until my face starts to twitch

and i wonder if it looks unatural

i start to feel afraid

like i will be caught pretending to be happy

and the people will be angry at me

because i lied to them

but my face stays in place

or i think it does because no one ever says anything

and since no one ever says anything

i assume i pass

and i walk home and the flowers are sweet

the pollen aggravates my allergies

the world is beautiful

tourists flock to the cemetery

like the bodies there are on display

and the trees provide shade

by the big stone wall

and i get home and i look in the mirror

i smile

i smile and it looks natural

and my face starts to twitch

so i stretch the muscles

so that i can create more control over them

i notice one side of my face is more flexible

i’ve been smiling lopsided

im having trouble keeping the memory

of how i used to hold my eyes to make myself looks genuine

i try to feel that person

but i don’t remember

i don’t think i have a memeory

to bring forth

i drink myself to sleep and i say

that work won’t be so bad tomorrow

the weather will be good

and i can smell the flowers

and the flowers are sweet