IF YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO CHANGE FROM
YOU WILL CHANGE INTO SOMETHING YOU
ALWAYS HAD
ITS ONLY GROWTH

New chapters. Starting from ground zero- heroes I have none. My heroes have always been cowboys- those are really Willie’s. but they will become mine.
Ventured the roads, the provinces in a daze. Some interesting signs do I remember?
“Prison area. Do not pick up hitchhikers,” seen driving through Michigan.
Northern Ontario was nice although the trees were but skeletons, barren. Saskatchewan was yellow. Manitoba I don’t remember. I was sick the whole time, still am- with ‘mild’ bronchitis. altitude to make you dizzy-less oxygen, 2hr change, lack of sleep, hacking up my lungs. My eyes all red, as with my yellow nose inside. As the yellow on the outside.
Time is slow. Of course I haven’t really been doing much. Staying in. Zoning out.

Soul searching. Again never been found. Finding that there is this terrible urge to purge my abilities but I swallow my pride in place of spitting out only instabilities. It’s a pity really- how dreams can’t even be dreamt before they are wasted. This is no way for life to be tasted. Shedding isn’t easy when it’s all in your head- when the process would basically leave you as dead when every inch of you needs to be shed, the depths that is only in head. Instead of ably communicated.
What were some of those thoughts I had? Of the things I didn’t understand…
Making judgment on something/one when being so far removed from it, may as well be saying ‘I am better’. This is the argument. –By also being that ‘politically ‘correct’ person. That is afraid to even speak –b/c they are too polite, and themselves afraid of judgment?
leavin’ on a jet plane… don’t know when I’ll be back again
And the clouds are racing- got an overhead view. I’ve done this before but it’s all still new. Quilted landscape
-I could sleep like a baby

Remember when I thought the plane would stand still. Float above hovering in the(and)over the clouds- resting during the long ride. There had seemed to be no motion or movement simply smooth. Now the white is too blinding.
And we will meet again
Over- beats’n’rhymes + sunshine
“ “ “ “
Fire/Five and ten and then move/more rounds
The pace at which these words hit the page may momentarily be delayed in relation to the words being relayed in my brain.
-It’s not so much a strain as it is a sprain on my wrist twisting it out –like I’m diggin’- from a tunnel- syndroming my dome. - The place that my intellectual instinct calls home.
-Base to which words are laced like arsenic (killing you upon impact)

X-quick to kill the poison--- through intoxication--- that tries to shatter your confidence.
---Quick >as a blight- to intoxicate
Lethally unknown fates that is so easily undone in their creation. Since the day I was born I’ve been wondering/wandering with my eyes closed > in reflection- mourning death before living before giving myself a chance