WHERE DO YOUR EYES GO

different patterns:  jutting out from the walls is paper and ink, things that are creative and pleasing!  my eyes go there by instinct, but i chastise you for your eyes landing there.  regular colour is like sleep and breath and death, it leads to little cognition and zero orbitals, no melodies; we search for coercion and flannel and explosion into.  anything that's different anything that is different

familiarities:  well, we come back to the usual, to make ourselves feel better.  to apologize for giving in to the difference.  we resign to comfort.  we are sorry.  we look for someone who might be our friend, who we could nod at, what would wake us from feeling solitary, asleep.  we're so used to looking at moving pictures on screens that it hypnotizes us, me, sorry, me, i, me.  i continue to come back in gaze to that solid screen on the pinball machine, it's a face, it's close to the mirror, i understand it somewhat, i pretend like it's entertainment, like it's something to do.

attractive people:  your face is so adorable, i even like the pores on your nose.  i'm VERY sure that you hate those slightly enlarged pores, but i think they make you more human, all the more beautiful.  your small blinking eyes glow with purpose.  your curls radiate the creamy skin within.  frailty is your hesitation, as is mine, and that silence draws me more, to you.

away from:  shrug shrug dart dart dart dark close feign feign pretend to check phone pretend to think about something shrug shrug yawn fake yawn, close gaze in on paint, wall paint, artwork, that which pretends to have such intent and purpose.

i sometimes wonder if i'm slowly being poisoned or if that's just the way i view the world

i wandered outside to switch up my surroundings.  envisioning all the possibilities, i froze just outside my front gate in the mild 40 degree weather.  i could go to a movie?  my mind rode the train to the theater, looked at the movies, couldn't decide, came back, saved money still frozen.  "i'll walk to buy the day's paper, a hot drink, some black ink for my rubber stamp," a scale of need vs want tipped in the direction of want, shot down still frozen.  collecting my tips from last night brought a quick, decisive vision of 'put-it-off-until-tomorrow', pockets empty stand still remain frozen on the sidewalk.  i looked at birds, interesting graffiti, questioned phone documentation, cheapening my direct experience, frozen seems so clean and present in comparison.  laundry tomorrow frozen.  sell car -- why not -- because i like it -- frozen.  contemplate change by not changing anything, starting to thaw.  with this thaw, i return inside, sit, type, stand by heater, stretch.  reheat leftover chinese food as a switch to my routine, because i usually have eggs and spinach at this time, and chinese only after 4pm.  reheat leftover chinese food to prove to myself that there is still something spontaneous and interesting in my movements and moments.  such spontaneity is a nail sticking up from the vast floor of earth, i scratch my foot on it, don't even draw blood, but seem annoyed, hammer nail down.  cold.