Why Do I Write?

Why Do I Write?


Because I have to. Because if I dont my head will explode. Sometimes the desire for expression becomes so immediately crucial that my ambitious brain gets frustrated and anxious when my reflexes wont keep up with the rapid fire of words flowing out of my consciousness.

Playing With Spaces in Unfamiliar Places

Who do you hang out with? 

people spend countless hours of their lives with the relationships observed on tv shows, binging for weeks at a time.






when you tell me you like a certain show,


i wanna know what you watch






(what you watch is the people you hang out with)






it's part of my study on you.






















mother has been sick for a while


and my father turned into a cat.






so


















I've been thinking about how


people are fascinating.






I have taken up an interest in studying them full time






I have found a position that will allow me to do my research.


They give you funding and a portion of their venture's profits back.






and they pay you to hang out and call people on the phone all day.


call centers really suck47














I just say I'm researching all day and i get paid for it.


i'm also responding to emails,


my work phone


my personal mobile device


on account of the fact that I had accidentally given out my personal number while trying to get someone to write down my work number and call me back.






I ask for a commitment from them.






They get to balance the daily struggles of maintaining relationships.






I give them an opportunity to have one with me,


and if they are dickheads,






i move on.


















analyze your personality


who do you hang out with on the silver screen?


































I love random questions as titles ;P










Sincerely,






LD/8/10/2018 21:38

living and exploring and tasting feeling and, what you call 'sensoring.'"  Look at all the weird shit I've said, everyone is going to be weird.  including my being weird to you.  I'm shy and try not to exista but I'm lonely for someone to pardon mi storia... 24nov2017/11:13/ld

I love it when I find stuff like this random shit in my unpublished coleccion

colección

For the Fate of Skin Walkers

In the distant future, there will be a time.

Where skin jumping will cease to be a commodity.

And eventually, as they become a luxury 

The entire definition of the human experience.

Is then altered.

Multiple souls working themselves to death 

Body hoping 

Paying rent to different skins

Not always desired

So

When we (syn "print") the body.  Basically 3-D print

We can build armies of bodies to loan out.

-buy biomass 

-buy lots of other cool shit

And he jumps from one skin to another,

Renting them for a brief collection of chunks of minutes on the hour

His consciousness is on the run 

Compared to emerging in a skin built for a different experience.

Thus,

We print our bodies up in the lab.

Fresh 

Supple 

and

With bacteria neutralized after the evaluation of your current bacterial state, metabolization rate of bacteria from gut to your bloodstream, and your own individual set and concentrains of bacterial genetics*

*To be developed using our individualized bacterial response technology.  Super fancy shit!

Why rent, when you can own?

Memories of Subjects

TESTING

TESTING

1, 2, 3,
TESTING...


is this thing on?

??

I think I'm splitting in two.

I think....

Maybe I'm not Bipolar.

Maybe I have Multiple Personalities.

The sober one is the real and honest and uninfluenced.

A...

...

........

Part of myself.

and the other is but a stranger still.

and that strangeness holds power.

more power than belief in Christ himself.

Fore

You shall become Devine!

You shall be blessed with the honor of sacrificing your soul each day,

Alive only by memories and patterns and ink...

May you burn and rot in your own version of Hell for all eternity.

because if you do not,

Those that you love will take your place...

someone will  burn

You decide

I constantly discover the repercussions of my addiction.

Being and becoming something I am not never lasts.

I pretend that I don't have a problem,

but I focus my entire physical effort on keeping my hands steady.

It's an almost impossible task,

I say how I have a tick...

All of us usually avoid alcohol

but tonight is a special occasion and we are hosting a coming out party

this is for new members that have just accepted their world through the lense of someone with a disease.

NOT a terminal illness or "chronic" anything.

Just a different path.

Fore Diseases can be just another way of "being"

End of Story

Little Bit of Then, Little Bit of Now

Title:  Doggie Heritage Society

ENJOY

This Shit Used To Seem So Important and Ominous Then...

When silence seeps over the vehicle, 

she throws in a confident 

"Have you heard about the women that are doing exercises to latch on to mens' dicks?"

What?

"Apparently they grab hold of your dick and hold it hostage.

They keep humping and bumping till the sun shines.

They must survive!

In a species that is no longer required to abide by the rules of the human race,

one is but a phantom,

a definitively physical trace (electron based) of energetic charge,

obscure reactions to certain simuli as they simply enjoy watching us explode and dance.  they collect us,

in rings

like we are here to put on a show.

if i find a better master, 

i think i shall share myself between the two.

whenther they like it or not (sometimes atpms do not want to pair with others,

but rhough our tracking techon=ksjfosdjfolsakjdfhpoiljkfr3poiqrwelkfjmnr23oiwed.,sanxcocikrs.k,xc  iwker.a,skrdsm  uivtbrljv.xcmcm ; 

Bet you've never had an experience like that.

If not.

you should.

blah Bleh Blah

compile data, monitor sales processes, report trends in the market,, analyze trends in sales statistics and data to develop sales skills and techniques, found out what being a part of a call center or sales office is like.  its all just money.

I Dont Write of Love, I Write of Passion

There's just something.

Something about you.

Forbidden and therefore ever more longing in the end.

I dream of you.

Dream of letting you wrap me around your little finger.

Dream of loving you, 

Holding you,

Protecting you.

Dream of stealing forbidden kisses from your lips.

Dream of kissing you softly on the neck.

Wrapping my arms around you.

Dream of feeling your walls tumbling down

Because if yours fall then mine can too.

"Walls down'" means fear,

And fear means the opposite of everything I want with you.

And yet I fear you

For that's why I love you.

I want to be fragile and open and naked

But not fear being broken or shut out or scarred.  

Decidedly so, every ounce of entertaining these fantasies shall be forbidden, as it is unfated.

Still, somehow you have snuck your way into a soft and special part of this story of my soul.  

Shame to never know who you are.

How I found you.

If I made you up.

I would love to be the man that loves you,

Holds you,

Protects you.

Therefore, you must stop visiting my dreams.