"I tried to paint you yellow with some leaves down in the park with some songs your mother sang when the love was unconditional and maybe that's the problem, that i can't promise anything at all i can break you off with my hands i can build you back into something else"

"2 years of 3 kinds of existence, I suppose existence not being the proper word at all in that time thousands and millions ideas some sustainable and some idiotic some ill informed weaving in and out of my thoughts. What was keeping ne from doing great things was also when my best ideals/writing/ 'artistic' thoughts took place. The more I think and try to recall yesterdays thoughts the more obscure they seem to become I wish I had the same solid ideals to discuss within my own head as I did then. And now I feel my trains of thought are more like maybe glimpses into the full idea because over the past year+ the depths of these ideas have shallowed. My mind is regressing and I can't pull it together long enough to recall anything old let alone learn anything new. I have regressed to the shallow kind who's deepest existent in their heads are the roots of their hair. fuck my mind is deteriorating like my bullshit generation Assuming it ever came together in the first place"