CLOSURE

CLOSURE

Why is there another empty note in my phone. I need words.
I crave fine literature.
I need to read things that draw my interest instead of reading things that i know i can somewhat rely on.
I need to read books in a foreign language.
I need a library of all bilingual content so i can speak in tongues.
I need tongues. Tongues that hug and caress and let me know that they care.
And now im steering off track with my metaphor.
And now im no longer walking the simple ongoing path that leads me in the straight direction.
I
Need
Closure.
Moreover
I
Need
Help.
Bunk You.
Nah leave you dry.
Please curl over, choke and die.

No Freedom Nor Trust Involved

No freedom nor trust involved.

I need the freedom that was enstated to my name.

I need what I deserve.

I and I deserve freedom.

I and I deserve the trust for we have done nothing to give you reason not to trust.

Whose co workers are they.

They see you at the workers convention but you dont work with them on a day to day basis in the same facility.

I deserve sleep.

I feel as though the insomnia owes me a large sum of unconsciousness.

I hate you brain.

Why must you cause me to think so much to the point where I hurt my inner being.

I need a brain block to stop my brain from sliding into the dark places that i dont want my thoughts to be.

I Need Space.

Micheal Jackson

Im sitting in front of my humongus window 208 stories in the sky above the city. My computer lays in front of me on the desk. The warmth of Sleepy time tea laced with poison consumes my chest. I look at different web gossip and tabloids. Celebrity news. Info of people that I want dead. I get mad and write a 13 page complaint under a video of Perez Hilton being a hipocrite and pansy on youtube. Im glad Will. I. Am. punch the pink haired fruitbasket. He looks like the devil. I head back to the evil headquarters. The search engine that will take of the world and smash everyone back into a slave state of mind. "What the blue devil blazes is this!!!" I see a piece of information that shocks me. I quickly search the web in a frantic attemp to find more info on the situation. Is this actually happening? Someone this big?!?! Is Micheal Jackson really about to die??? As much as people tear him to pieces on sketch comedy shows, they all still love him. I dont love, but if i did i would feel a super special way about this. After I get tired of looking for the story, i get up, light my chalise and gaze out my excessivly large window.

I need white socks.