Jigsaw Heart. Try to put it together

See. It’s retribution. It’s emblematic of your initial assessment. It’s been erratic. Every visceral session seems to be coming back to bite me in the ass. Are you pisces? I heard that some pisces were, pretty rad. clueless to the superfluous mix. clueless to what i’m doing or did. am i pursuing a gig. am i pursuing cause pursuing’s a bitch. It’s useless. Every mistake I make, or made is etched in razor blades in every thing i do’ed or i did. and everything i do’ed or i did, is the biggest, single most catastrophic thing on the planet. cristians feelings are an inchworm, nothing to get upset over; it happened. I’m supposed to forget. I’m supposed to act like it didnt even occur or had action. imagine a bird. yup, cerulean skies in the background, yup, not a single cloud in sight. yes, both wings flying at a height above it’s regular flight. zoom out of focus. blurry reach. Now imagine a second bird with one wing. trees clearly visible. altitude considerably low. sigh. gliding to get within wings reach with unbearable might. who’s the second bird? edit: and this idiomatic stone didnt kill the two birds, (it almost killed me). GOD damnit! Wish a comparison to birds wasnt suitable now. IS THERE A SUTURE? Like a symptomatic expression OF aerial gaze that didnt seem so arid today?. Like what the hell was I doing til now? It’s useless. You’re ruthless, Hardly keep it together. God. If I clasp my fists any tighter my hand is capable of squeezing an atom. Split it into till we’re wiped clean from the datum. I mean it. Solely wish it were true. Wish anger bits mixed in anew. Pistol chambers seem so apocalyptic to this inaugural world. When wind freezes your skin seeps an aura as the muteness hits pause. & we swirl. Dealt two blows, to the overbearing passive aggressive. so manic depressive. You told me what you wanted before you didnt want it to hit, and wanted me to understand that you wanted it without telling me all that you did. I tried to understand where you were going, but the manipulation was titillating. Indicative of  vindication where most of the passion was closed in. I’m tired of questioning. You were my boat, and by that I mean when I sailed along on the coast. Sure everything underneath me would stay down. Laid out a blueprint, that was slowly stained out with red. I hate headaches. But everyday, every morning I rubbed my eyes and the chest pain, just going over the argument the night before. Eye-sores a common occurrence. It cost as a person. Pits of flowery petals. Not of flowers, but of ice with a patternized crystal that maximizes the the colors of this slightly plaid sonnet, with a luminous missile that twinkles when light refracts off it. Coffee and liquor, sometimes I mix them and call it elixir. A brew of congested chestnut. Nothings better than driving in a convertible top 6 speed through a closed tunnel layoff where the temperatures below freezing at 4 in the mo’rning.

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