im losing track of time for the first time i no longer know what day it is ever because my life just keeps flowing and theres a part of me that wants to count but it all flickers by so fast how could you possibly count all that?

when i was a teenager i pretended to be like those beat poets because i thought their work was artsy and beautiful and worldly and spiritual but i never fucked my brain up enough to get there so i’d just pretend. now im actually getting fucked up. i feel their spirits. i used to just use that language metaphorically to connect with others but now im really believing it, i have to believe it, my life has stakes now, my life has stakes now because its not the goddamn dress rehearsal so im going to hold on to whatever it is i can, my competitive advantage, my lucky charm, the bottle cap i found in the surreal playground what was i even doing?

i want to let someone in just so they can break me apart. i want to know what i am made of.