*types white noise*

From the bottom of the map
Runs a river, call is flat
And when I wear this here fancy top hat
And sing a little tune
The stars and sky and silky moon
Come to me in the shape of a cat

This cat is not quite ordinary
It has no legs or tail
No eyes or ears or body either
But quite the cat it certainly is

We bought it from a homeless man
He was drunk and wearing a fez
I told him “sir I’m eternally sorry but all I have are pez”

"Well no fucking way" he says
“I just got this pez dispenser” he says
“Here’s my ordinary cat” he says

And off we ran she he it her me him they and I

Shouting into the night sky blanket
“Oh yes oh yes oh why”

Why? Why why why why why why why?
Why why? Why not just why? Or why even why? How about why not? Why why not? Why why why?

It ain’t no lie
Baby Bye bye bye

Every pixel perfect sensory blip every lead lined leaf spun web swindles, river dots eddies in Ed Edd’n eddy’s jaw runs in circular fractured arch. Someone put my head in a blender and bent me over, tastes quite good no? Horrifying. I’m dying drying or some other form of it

I feel it
I know it
You know it
Here it is

What will my funeral be like? Everyone’ll be working - too busy. My life is important don’t you know. The things that happen in it don’t you know. Your life is important don’t you know. The things that don’t happen do you know. Like how you slightly shift your weight to one leg when weaving a story from false memories.

Then the screws nuts blots fell like sandpaper rain. Imagine that, sandpaper sky and nose bleed clouds.

Fucking kill me already

Shut up
The screaming chaos in my head the screaming chaos in my head the screaming
Nap hyper focus real mesh blur
Oh my fucking god absolute
Erase the paper please erase please the paper please twitches
Please

The screaming chaos in my head the screaming chaos in my body screams in chaos in my head in star cluster nerve ending head spun down servant rage bloated thorn in my eye

Why oh why won’t this thorn in my eye

Screaming chaos in my head screaming chaos in my head bolts gnash teeth saw dust semen sails across long winded sigh in elevator rides and d major seventh resolve

Go away
Shut up
Talk to them
Leave me alone
Go away
Stop
Shut up
Talk to them
Friends
Go away
Everyone
Go away
Don’t leave me
Go away
Stop

Screaming chaos in my head pounding rhythm in my jaw screaming agony in my bones wretched service is my home

Screaming chaos leave alone

They’ll kill me they’ll kill me and drain my blood, oooo isn’t that sexy

Oh aren’t you gorgeous
Look at that beautiful bridge
Beauty eauty eauty

Bus motion rattles into trash an spinning into page flip eye shift shoulder glance muscle spasm move on over state at them and look away

Screaming chaos in my head

I ask you, leave me alone

Seasons change and faces shift, sworn eternal lovers now in hatred. Banished hence an exile in the kingdom, wrought tales did the devilish seamstress spin. In effervescent landscapes did our player travel, pendulums, time warps, grains of glass did pass.

How weary now, our exile did beg; “Please. No more, let me lay my head.”

And so, kindly did the seamstress comply. Every strand did she sever, except the one named “forever.”

trying to write about self-erasing pens with self-erasing pens. damn.

You’ve got a car’n all and you’re driving it. One day it breaks down, or you’re just curious - “how does this car work?”

So you start learning about that, it’s fascinating and thrilling and so ingenious you can’t help but wonder “how do we know how the car works?”

And that question leads you down paths you’d never thought existed or even could exist. But as dazzling as this can of worm holes is, you’re left slightly dissatisfied - “how the fuck do I even know that I know anything?”

Well now the questions have wrapped themselves into non-existence. The beeping signaling you to buckle your seat belt shatters the airy glass of your musings and drags you back into reality where you’ve been sitting in a target parking lot for the last hour. You turn the key in the ignition and start driving home.

Waking up early will unfailingly fill my stomach up with “I don’t want to go to school” dread.

bookofimaginarybeings:

Somewhere Borges is sitting quietly at his desk. Imagining a Language without Grammer. Then, with a smile, a Grammer without the Language.

by Jason Novak, captioned by Eric Jarosinski.