Barnaby Monk 1:14 p.m., June 19
This is how I arrange and order my thoughts,
writing, thinking, crying, sobbing.
This is why my lip twitches, quivers. I am nervous, angry, sad or hungry.
Didn’t they tell me don’t get too hungry angry lonely or tired.
Aren’t I all of those at different points in time.
I guess they meant at once, don’t be all those things together. Some people are strange, rude, those people are insignificant.
The longer I am around on this planet, the shorter my lifespan seems to be And the more in touch with the grasp of the obvious I am.
For some reason my whole life I thought I was the insignificant one the one that made no sense, but as my grasp becomes tighter onto what decreasing hold I have, I am the significant one and I am the one that makes sense.
I have tact some people are holding on to what they think they have, a grasp on which is actually nothing these people can’t hold onto life if it became as simple as something to literally hold on to in our hands.
These are the people that make it difficult for me, because of the fact that I think this life should actually be easier.
I should let these people pass by below the radar in fact these people should even be on my radar.
These people who have no grasp on any kind of reality.
I am real my feelings are real my body is real I am my own radar.
I am in my sights I am my own monitor of my own reality show where my feelings feed through the tube to halted time halted space between ears of mortality.