so i gag and catch it in mid air, before it hits reality, while its still rising up inside of me, inside of us. so i go with the people that move during all hours and learn the way they do things is not the same as i. i learn i need a break i need to take myself outa nd sit on a couch on the side of the road without asking or looking whos there, because we are all on the street, therefore we are the same thing. i have legs attached to feet, which i forget most of the time to see a hole that dives deep into the cut marks our space defines. we walk and stop to talk on the phone or check our text, we will find a skateboard, which is fucking freedom. we will lose that skateboard by the end of the night, but the feeling in our feet will be how it used to be when we touched those layers of wood we used to push on and on. now i squat in my own home because i’m so godamned tired of my own chair and the person ive been spiralling into. growing with every layer that sets my legs ablaze in these tight restricted jeans. i experience too much to lay down with words. everyday has been an adventure. i’ve seem a human being prevent death, i also smoked in the other room waiting for it to get out of hand. i had a fist banging on my door trying to warn me of the scattered peo[le that landed in my kitchen but her lips are dry and she is dead. so we are concerned and we put sugar on her gums and hope she wakes up, as the one who knows her so much he will breathe through her dead body like a mask gasping for life, but her lips are too dry to respond or comprehend. so i extended my hand though i was so gone by myself. now i have the constriction that was caused by a number of bad choices stacked on bad glass that will hurt your teeth if you put it up to your mouth to fast. i live too quick with a stick dragging on a fence, in an attempt to understand my past or to finnally get passed this goddamned nostalgia that is reapping all the guilt and no rewards because its no longer me. so i wake to a window that throws light into my eyes as they drip with thoughts that wont keep me going as i drop the schedule and never look at it or clock in again. i am here, but i don’t ever feel comfortable. i recently watched a national geographics special on street, the crazy curly haired hippy was experimenting on baboons. i got drunk with a stretch of white lines that ended in my best friend lying to me as usual, if he didn’t lie to me i don’t think i could handle him at all. but what he says when he’s in that state of mind is purely what i need. so i suck in air tangled in shards of temporary confidence that will last untill it is digested in the stomache of my face. i place these fingers on a flat surface that hurts my hands too much. why in gods fuck do i care about what other people think? how have i had such a good life yet i’ve got so used to being uncomfortable. i tease my dreams like a cartoon chasing a steak. i’lll wash the dishes after i live hard for 2 days out straight, i found a skateboard then lost it the same day. i stayed awake and kept fake shocked eyes on my face, because i couldnt feel my mouth so i looked like i felt, which is not how i am. these letters haven’t been written for quite some time but i’m picking it up again slowly through the rails i drive with my spinning cyclist mind. minutes stack up and weigh heavy on your hour, but you can’t hold it back its too strong its an instant reaction. so you will meet the people that will show you the lows, what you really need to find is a fish that bites and you reel in, not the other way around. when i say you i mean ME justus joseph grant caruso. i’ve forgotten how awesome my entire name is. i’m glad its not going anywhere, thats something i can put some faith in, however names are manmade which is there for insufficient for the universe. which is what i’m struggling about a lot right now, rebelling about everything humans have made is so hard when you are human yourself. but there is something more that we can’t speak unless we dream, then we touch and feel the clothes pile up around my bed, then i finally get to a point where i don’t even care. i spread out on what i wear to work. work. work work. the only place where i can relax and feel ok, but i hate it and can’t wait to get out. can someone get me out. but what would i do if i didn’t have little bags breathe in what i would say? it would suck to blow out that hard that the lines spread into the desert and people are left still to evolve how they should be. the ammount of legs, feet, ties and wild eyes i look away from are building up. i just want to breathe how it feels right. i meet people that seem more lost than me, but my symptoms are completely unique. my cheeks aren’t used to this kind of stress. where my tongue is always working, my lips are always sliding back n forth on eachother as i taste my thoughts. i redirect my minds malfunction to my mouth to take care of to the most naturaly habbit of drinking milk. which is what i never had. i wonder if i would have turned out differently if i would have sucked a mammal female womans tit while i was a tiny little baby that cried out the groundfloor room window for more and more. the bottom half of my face shakes as i think about this same thing on the train. will it ever be with me. is life just one big sleeve i will finally push my hand through once i die. i’m sick of the build up, i want to cry. i’m on autopilot mode, i can’t turn it off even though it hurts so bad that my spine is numbed. my cries are hidden inbetween the bottom and top. teething, chewing rubbing the inside of my lower face into a void that never is cured because the energy is free, but i haven’t accepted that. i’m afraid for no reason, i was never taught to stop. it was mentioned a couple times, so when my fingers are slamming the keys of this computer i love but hate the things it make me addcited to. i’m so dissapointed the internet has boilde ddown into this time taker that isn’t afraid of real life. its all man made and therefore completely relevant. thats exaclty what boggles my mind, everything we do or make is man made, which is untrustable for death and the life we dont understand because its not man made. i believe in science because it makes the most logical sense, unfortunately there is a big part of me that makes me so uneasy about that. because i feel something that is on another dimension, not human. so i am a rebel against what i am. it is a constant battle that i need to resolve before it turns into war. i will twist i will contort my eyes to see what i have been trained to believe. please trust me. all i need is a womans body to lay next to that isn’t half ugly. please let her land on my feet. help me find that little thing with the big doll eyes that look up at me and think of a dream they had too long ago. help me help them to remember the relief they bought when they got the toys they wanted as a kid. they ended up stolen or broken just like everything else. we don’t think about that part when we are that young we are just taking ocnsuming the fun like osme succulant fuck of a life vaccuum that dreams of being themself. but in theis day and age who could blame you and who could hurt you more than me? i mean who can hurt me more that me? who can hurt you more than you? senses will degrate over time, just like minutes get faster and the lifeline gets shorter as we experience more and more. togetheness will bring us hope, but it is only that for one night some excitement that things can change and will be slightly different the next day. i will scrube the dishes that take all of a day to make, but only minutes to clean. its not that big of a deal to me. i want an excuse to feel this way thats why i keep going back to you. my teeth are getting darker from smoking cigarettes, froom pouring coffee into my mouth trying to figure out if i keeps me awake. it usually doesn’t the blast of tabacco and caffeine usally sends me into a tired sleepy state of mind that can only be cured by laying down. just like a long night without breathing, because you don’t know what to think about the people who surround you.
