opposite actuality

Do you ever come to feel that some things in life are not what they seem to portray to be? Like for example: Propaganda. I've been really thinking a lot about what truth means. To the point where it doesn't make any sense and confuses me. And then I would try to have some deep conversation with friends who I feel don't even know what they want/to share or reveal about themselves. which confuses me, then I feel like i'm being glared at like as if it is my fault that I don't know what they're talking about. I guess what really matters is getting a point across to someone. That is the main key. I don't think being or "acting" super intelligent is supposed to get you anywhere. Being intelligent only works when you know how to use intelligence to become dilligent and productive. I have so much more to say but my mind is constantly changing... my thoughts are too explicit for the internet. everchanging. maybe you should meet me over some lunch and entertain each other over how things aren't what they seem. this subject actually reminds me of this poem.

Words never structured the same ever again

The things which were ever so perfect,
were the things that never happened. Unwritten.
Am I, I, or, I am anything really worth thinking. ?
The thought of something vs. actually having
in a time when it grew inside a brain.

Didn't have to read a book to know that

driving as far as you can,
until you have anymore gas,
I finally know how that feels like.
And the thought I have that makes me giggle,
whenever I think of you.
It is the little things that make the big worries
go away.
Beliving in something so much, nothing matters.
That's what I call happiness.
I control myself.
And that's all.

And what's what I mean by when I say "nothing matters"

I saw a falling star on the way home from work. And immediately I made a wish without giving any thought. It was to be a good person. Sometimes in life, no matter how much I think I have done, with nothing but good intentions, somebody isn't going to like me. And sometimes, I wonder why. I could only reflect upon myself to ask such questions, and I assume things, and I become my own worst enemy. Sometimes I forget I over analyze trivial thinking. It feels good to say "I feel great". It feels good to have a good meal and sleep, to have somebody like me. I just want to be good to the people I feel who are good to me and for the ones who are not, I'll just smile anyway. Because in the end, when we are all old and grey, nothing is going to matter what people think or say about us.

art is most valuable in my posession

creation! for all the right things
a baby,
a child is a part of me and you. sometimes not me
everything inside you. by telling you what it means. completely, influenced by surroundings, summoned
by need of expression, pain and love,
care and time copywrited no longer mine,
I do not know what right and wrong means anymore,
another problem I need to fix
neglect my love set aside
feelings arise
because of my soul
whenever it chooses somebody to notice it
what will become of this
oh time tests truth
if energy changes into something else
let the end be something beautiful
I believe, oh I believe it must.

The word "Fuck".

Greatful for a life I can complain about,
sad because I wish I had privilege, my brain tells me
but deep down in my heart. When you dig deep down past
Austrailia and China into the core and somewhere outside
of what even makes sense anymore, you find
who gives a shit.

Happy because I am myself
happiness is true wealth
thankful because I still have two arms
attached with two hands
happy to be in a two man jam band
and that I have a job
where I can buy stuff
happy I can go to the doctor
and glad I am not sick of anything
sad that I'm sad that pretending to be sad makes me sad and that is sad
happy that I'm happy to think I'm happy because I am happy
making a reality without fucks
impossible because everyone chooses that special someone to dislike
about and reflect their communication by describing themselves
like smoking a cigarrete, letting themselves hurt their universe
getting worse
dying slowly
very inconspicious
but I know
because I been there, and probably may go back
because we miss it
like popping puss out a pimple
like venting and ranting to a cashier
like doing something
Everyday is the same
and we just fuck ourselves to pass the time
and have something to do

People like You and Me

I'm not afraid ov the people who walk around at night,
They all look the same
in the dim moonlight, the flashing car LED shine,
we're all walking somewhere, minding our own business,
I'm more afraid ov those who "know everything"
claiming to be psychic prophets
Dali once said "nobody is adequate to judge me"
and that is why he left art school.
And this is why nobody cares anymore.
And for the ones who still care,
They are the ones walking the streets
to nowhere