It’s a bit unnerving that I have to be this way. That I couldn’t just settle for midnight stargazing with a cigarette in hand, or that I couldn’t just have taken the car and ran away into the distance with whoever, couldn’t travel every crevice, remote lost feeling, control, hell even the vast endless spaces of nothing but just the fact that you could be there was enough. It’s too bad they make you want to follow strict criteria and all you want to do is break free and leave, to be unrestrained, and not constricted into every fucking corner as they try to get you to think there isn’t a way to be free, without stress killing through the brain to the atom to the dreams to the hope to the broken to the bare and to the death you see. I never wanted to follow. And hell I was never “lost.” 

That was just a sorry ass excuse for how passive I was, it wasn’t really passivity. I wanted thrill, endless thrill through the nights and days, and for the end to come that I could rest through the waves of non-understandable dreams jesus christ have you seen them. They’re all in alternating black and white, and there is no color. I don’t deem this as free, as free as I ever got is free writing the shit out of this keyboard with any, and all feeling I had before I died out for another night because I honestly can’t find any other way. But I will, soon. I will cut the constriction. I will be free. I will leave and maybe look back one day and realize how much I just, fucked it all up. But you know.

That’s what I do. I fuck it up to the rash ending realities and I just go back and stare at it. I don’t even ask the question, because I already knew what was coming. Shit, nothing’s surprising. Why she can’t make up her mind, why these numbers won’t increase but even though it’s the only thing close to getting an “appreciation” from your parents or else from within who the fuck ever came up to the theory that if I didn’t come up with the grades accountable enough to show how much I loved my parents. Such bullshit. I love my parents. Well, in this case my Mom. Just her, she’s great. She’s amazing, incredible, crazy, in depth, strikingly persistent in her attempts to create sheer breath of sweetness, she’s like warm bread just baked and you just bare her and you just fucking love her for why she stays by so long, my god I’m hopeless, useless, deranged, insane, but she knows I am. She knows I’m not dumb. She knows I’m capable, whether or not I want to give it out, or give it up. 

But I wonder sometimes, would she let me go home. Home to, well. Entropy increases. Things fall apart. Everything falls apart, if they can build, they will fall apart and all you have is the moment it starts up until the very end, and no. It’s not a negative design it’s real like how you just know this world will be ended by our own hands. But we know that, but no one gives a shit because we live in the moment. And this is what we are, hopelessly endeavored into dreaming, into the inhaling, exhaling the deaths of others. We go through endless endings, and crazy unearthly catastrophe in our own heads until we explode, so we can sleep. 

So we can wake up, and it doesn’t have to repeat. We can choose to take the road again, the “road” where free isn’t free. It’s cycles of shit. So what you do, you build above ground highways, intersecting, and there will never be anything for you to follow. Because we aren’t built for following.

We were built to be natural. To be free. To be crazy as hell. That’s the home I wanted.