So I wanna stream my consciousness but am I really conscious Of this world that heaves and holds and hinders and hides from eye sight even when your pine cone bright, don’t you still get tired of trying? Of listening while the world, your mind, your body, other’s mouths even time is lying down and up fluctuating with the prevalent energy but not near so eternal. Internally, my energy be taking turns like double dutch ropes stagnating then hopping, leaning in to catch the rhythm and away to avoid the risk. Life is love is we are like this placated by convenient entry into the familiar territories and terror stories because familiar pain and unknown pleasure have a long history with irony. Why between them it irons me. Flattened to fit into the mediocrity so massive I’m still in 3d, dimensionally dumb and disillusioned with possibilities presented to me in lieu of being free I wanna scream my consciousness but it only consists of this: memories from sleepier times made more meaningful after facts alternative and otherwise. I wise up in hopes of alternating facts for fiction, dicks from diction and all the money I been missin’ while my mind plays tricks on itself painting pictures of emotional progression while my pussy still regressing accepting less that loving stroke just for penile poke, swear I’m almost woke, third eye crusty, heart valves too rusty to receive what is meant for me, I been stopped believing in meant to be, I’m bent to free me from having meant less to anyone than they’ve meant to me.