They Build Buildings

Time is not given and time is not taken; it just sifts through its sift.

It's about hope. Driving the woman home in the morning and still loving her. I can't hear my thoughts over the found of a beautiful siren shrill. I hear you turning your thoughts off.

Qui qui qui

Okay time to concentrate. It's hard to with this beautiful noise. Oh my god. Oh my. Oh. Oh.

Pavlov's Daughter woke up in the morning, heard the bell ring.

So she lay there, the sun skimming her skin. Drooling on her pillow. FUCKING GENIUS.

Now I  remember why I felt so hopeful when I was 14. I just listened to Regina Spektor all day. Her music is like an ever turning shower, warm and encompassing every goosebump. You step in, naked, chill on the arms, but the water is your goddess. You feel okay. Your mind will be stretched, fuck, to the limit of conception. You'll feel a terrible sting in your heart that time is sequential, not parallel. One at a time, a line. I wish I could kiss all my lovers at once. All my lips kissing them all in a perfect parallel wired circuit. The formulas are there. Simple homemade science books and dirty hands. But the sun streams in through a patch of web, spiders long gone, who knows where they've run off to or if they're even alive. It's all just a flow of perfection. Nothing can touch you, every moment is a baptism. It's not like the other music, where you can remember the beginning at the end. This is where you are stuck, always in that singular present moment. It's the only time I feel full. She is my god. I realized how much I never agreed with modesty or religion. I do not want to be hateful, but I'm in an odd place right now. Also, this is the first moment I've relaxed in a long time so I feel like I'm in heaven. I am. In. Heaven. A heathen sneaking through the Berlin Wall. East, West, Central, but I just want to be home. I've been practicing my rapping lately. I'm getting better. I'd like to rap and box and do all these things that you three letters like (sex?). Sneaky innuendos right here. OH MY GOD SNOW IN SAINT LOUIS. My ears hurting. You buying earrings for Julie, a scarf for me. I got blush on it and I didn't like it either because it wasn't colorful like Cella's. You were the first person to think I was special and should be treated right. You told me how much you liked me, and I really ignored you. I wish I had payed more attention but I was immature. I don't even know what I'm saying. I just know I feel okay. I want words to describe my mind, but that wouldn't make me a writer. You see, I think everything I write sounds horrible. I hear my inner audiological loop play it in my working memory, and all I hear is bumbling, awkwardness, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. Can't phrase anything right. When I try, my hands start shaking and my mind drifts to Zack proposing or Stevie and his size 15 shoes. The circuits are messy. Solder it, God. If you're there, you'll solder it. Click click. And the lady says, she laughs, "Trust me, the world isn't like this." She was weird and wanted too badly to be nice, so I was drawn to her. I'm drawn the the beautiful men but also to the good ones. Zach. Thailandia. Fucking down time, leaning against a counter, tall and nice. I will not fall for anyone. I am about myself and that's it. I me my mine just me so fuck off world.

Am I serious?

Reading time with pickle.