I've spoken of blackberries before,
as if they were gospel doctrine.
And preached to the multitudes,
their undying importance.
But what I thought were blackberries,
were tree roots
and the plant that bore them,
an organism much like that of a deer.
And deer are colorblind, you know

A perfect house without all the shortcomings that come with a title

photo credit: The infinitesimal Bayley Christensen

And it seems as if though I'm living in the
confusion, that's so very obviously dripping
from the four of you, that
correlates less to me than does anything
else, in this
middle-sized community.
But I'll build a home, that has just enough rooms,
for us to live in,
as it does memories,
for us to thrive upon -
here.

everyones a thing to me

Why do we not entertain the idea of reading neutral news
There's not a popular novel around in which opinions are meshed, and the middle ground is prominent.
We are the constant, we are stability.
We are what is compared to, now.
The norm is not prioritized, because the appeal isn't there.
Where's an article written about a man and his average day?
We read about people winning prizes, and people being stabbed in the head,
but never do we read about a man getting ready for the day, newly out of his middle- class bed.
The most interesting thing about our sick fascination is that we aren't even out living these extremist
ideals
We're sitting at a wooden table over roast beef analyzing broad stupidity in a very justified tone.
Where the hell does our entitlement spawn?
We're the judge of a court that truly doesn't give a damn.

Sometimes we venture into the not-inside, but it's only for nine days in a hotel that serves you breakfast.
And it's only then, that we understand how much we depend on our nine to five's.
It's only then that we realize we want to be predictable.
It is only then that leaving vacation seems like more of a vacation than vacation.

hire a choir

Guys, what used to be normal to us was not too long ago. Think about that, then,
implode.
But the thing is, today, months ago seem like things that are not real.
do you understand?
oh

i look down upon my diary-less livelihood with a feeling of cordial disdain

If I don't know something, then I don't know anything at all

And I feel like sometimes, it's like, "oh" 

And also, it's like, "oh," also. 

Then clams, and pictures

pictures of clams

and pictures, of clams 

and an understanding. hi. 

that's like, oh, we can't, 

because it's like, 

                             

bitches ain't shit. 

hi bitches. I wrote this shit.

Ominous

The only time I truly feel alone is when the sun stops shining. I feel nothing. I walk outside, with expectations like that of day, but what appears before me is not the landscape I remember. Day is when you see exactly what’s there, at night, you see exactly nothing. What you’re seeing, isn’t a thing; it’s the absence thereof. Isn’t seeing something as monumental as not seeing anything at all?

Juxtaposed, is black tree contours on 2-D black background. Where’s the contrast, where’s common knowledge? Thick black ink floats. Lifted up from the ground are your feet, suddenly you’re not walking to a vanishing point, because it’s been gone for a while now. What are the jagged ridges looming above my doorstep? They’re mountains, I guess, of course they’re mountains. What’s the sound I hear? Well of course I do not know.

4 p.m. July 3^rd, you may look outside and see if you’ll need a windbreaker, 2 a.m. August 6^th, you’ve not got a clue. There is something however, about not knowing what’s in front of you. What is it that intrigues us with wonder, why do we have surprise parties? Well of course I do not know.

Sometimes I think about stars.

Think back and I remember dancing with my two best friends on top of the city; it was cold. Loud loud music, and slurpees all around, old cans rattling in the trunk. And laughs, ohhh the laughs. Old men screaming, just as the sun goes down; warm wind settled in Canadian coolies, fake shots and raindrops and memories forever, is what the night reminds me of. Old-times evoked, and new ones provoked, it’s forever a safe place; that of the night.

I walk outside, seeing shapes of nothing and loving it. All I can see is a luminous night ahead of me. The sun’s not here, it’s completely opposite me, but this is the brightest it’s felt for a while now.

Bayley's body sucks.

One it's cold out,

and two i've slept at seven

oh, three, how are you? - scary smile

and friends

one fake nose job, for me

and ouch,

also for me.

twenty two days later and my lifes here,

i mean, yeah.

Not better, just here. Not here either, just a little clearer,

Like cold winter,

and Kanye, sings

Oh and my nose, it's also here.

FINALS, but not the f*cked up kind.

I sure do hope my brain fluid doesn't come out of my skull,

because that wouldn't be very cool much. hi

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