Inhale

Peeling back the wrapper with ease Crumple it up and throw it in the trash Tap the box a few times in the palm of your hand Then you flip the lid open and pull one out The sides of the one you take and then one still in the box brush each other Chshhhh The yellow rests on your bottom lip Click Spark The lighter hits the white end And you inhale as the smoke rises Big breaths and then tap it The ashes might fall on your shoes but they will come off trust me And before your eyes its gone So put it down And step on it Its gone Then you pull another one out...

Ive chosen not to be crazy Figures that more people bug you about it when you are Seems as you are Idk Different "look at her" "just wanna punch her in the face" They say One: activity of the instinct of self preservation Two: Adaption to environment Three: correspondence of character to the age and station Four: remember able consciences He who does not respond to these test is insane So I'm partially there Whhh-hhh-hh-h-h-h-ish

I hear whispering and piano playing in the pit of my left ear But its okay because the whistling is coming And yes my room is silent And my brain is empty And in the strangest way The mind conjures up these things called words And puts them in your head Streams them down your arm and into your fingertips Where the energy is transferred into the pencil and on to the paper To create the magic of insanity

This tiny chunk of words I found in my brain

Inspiration less Lifeless Wordless Emotionless Im nothing write now Dahhh writers block Makes ya wanna write

My poetic fluidity... Out the window My thunder storm of ideas on the land of my brain Its sunny now And me I'm broken Out of words to type But full of the emotions to feel What does one do when they are uninspired Just sit Its not enough I need to write for my hearts healing But my brain is out of words It can no longer heal Maybe its done And now its sleeping

What if oxygen was just poison that took 80 years to years to kill us? What if we were really on a speck just like Horton said? Of what if one day you woke up and your whole life was a dream? And what if heaven is real? Would God be foreskin if Jesus had not worn the crown of thrones But rather wrapped them around his knuckles? Or if Adam had not eaten the apple But instead the girl? Would I be forgiven for not knowing the things That so many people act like they know so well?

I hear whispering and piano playing in the pit of my left ear But its okay because the whistling is coming And yes my room is silent And my brain is empty And in the strangest way The mind conjures up these things called words And puts them in your head Streams them down your arm and into your fingertips Where the energy is transferred into the pencil and on to the paper To create the magic of insanity