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Emptiness, a clean start.

Space in your head,

If you let life go on

Then there's place for magic.

Then the world will open itself,

And everything is possible.

It fills my ears and mind,

It's like a blanket for my feelings.

Flowing through my tortured thoughts,

Making them seem a little less noticeable.

It dulls my overactive mind,

It makes me less aware of the travesties which haunt me.

Through the melodic noises it's hard to think strait.

This is why I listen,

Because it's a tranquilizer for my mind.

“Brain, spell check my thoughts.”

I’ve waited so long to do this because I’ve been busy. Busy, okay? Preoccupied with work, sleep, human interaction, writing, daydreams, reality.

I’ve waited so long to do this because I give too many excuses.

I’ve waited so long to do this because I’m afraid of what I’ll fi-

Found: 43 total errors.

That was fast.

Finished even faster than the quickest thought of you this week.

I guess that’s not hard to do

when people like to call my head a shrine to your beauty.

26 moments of overanalyzing.

Okay, that one I expected. I’m surprised there’s not more, probably. I’m more aware than I should be when you sneak up behind me. I’m more aware than I should be of our untold feelings, the ones that have never even been written. I’m more aware than I should be when our secrets are under the same table. I’m more aware than I should be when you lean forward, bracing your weight on connected fists. Now I am even more hyperaware of how often I sit in that same position. I magnify everything, everything, everything, I read the signs before I can see them.

8 ideas you shouldn’t have had.

Shouldn’t? Who’s to decide what I should and shouldn’t think? I can’t get my mind out of the gutter when you’re around, it’s true. Most of my ideas should be outlined in a mess of green and red by now. I need to get back to the sidewalks, I need to concentrate-

6 instances of thinking about harmony, or that song, or a handful of cards with the best people, or lemon juice in an open wound.

Crooked red lines run rampant around my head, underlining so many of my thoughts, spell check complaining they shouldn’t be there, my brain thinks they have lost their meaning but to my heart they still carry so much weight, so many colors. I can’t fix myself I can’t stop thinking them I won’t stop thinking them

3 flickers of not even your name,

not even overthinking,

not even your initials

or the way you hold yourself,

just you.

The unavoidable. I could sift through my head and clear the red off this page, spell checks or bloodstains, until I can’t clear any more and even then it would go like this

“Brain, spell check my thoughts.”

Found: 43 total errors.

43 flickers of

you.

Why did I do this again? Now there’s green and red everywhere, brain.

I crumple up half these thoughts. They don’t even deserve to be folded into airplanes before I toss them out so the page is clean.

Spell check has put crooked red lines under harmony and that song and a handful of cards with the best people and lemon juice in an open wound, forgetting how those things are intertwined with you, forgetting they exist entirely.

But still I don’t want it to cross out your name.

Ashen heaven,
clenched,
comfortably fierce
in my crooked yellows,
kicked back
at the primo-crack of
a casually deemed dawn.
A thin cloud of smoke
surrounds me,
inspires me,
only events such as,
can bring forth
the realest of I’s.

Can’t help but laugh,
my friends,
at confusion
of my own crooked innards.
Crooked smile,
crooked stare,
thankfully
this Spirit brings
puffing nico-coals of
Straight-mindedness.
right for my cancer
I build between,
Yourself and I.

Nearing the re-printed Beast,
Closing in on a sour foam cylinder
of ‘safe’ separation.
Don’t give a shit though.
Why else buy matched sets of Twenty,
Keep Going
seems the plan.
The Hair,
the skin,
the lung,
What have they done?
Un-responsible, eh,
Nah.
Rolled on my own doing,
bring joyful peaks
very rare to You & I.

Only the most selfish,
You know i am,
end with that letter
Lucky #9
WANTED: Time,
Dead or Alive?

by Jeph Johnson 

Sometimes everything in my head

Feels like ping pong balls

Bouncing around in my skull

Finally emerging flattened

Like a thin slice

Of George Carlin's brain

Through what resembles the slot

Where one would insert their ATM card.

Only upon further review

I realize it is really my butt crack.

How about you? 

How would you describe your thought process?

Somedays I drip into dark moods

And I'll watch 

As you walk 

All bright and clear 

Clear as a brass bell 

Or any bell 

Are bells even made of brass?

Fuck who cares.

Look at me 

I continue on...

Drip

 Drip 

  Drip 

Walking alone amid the moonlight,

Like an apparition moving with no purpose!

I have my thoughts as the companions,

True to life they are as the dogs thus!

The thoughts appear as the clouds,

And go away soon,

As if they are playing hide and seek,

Under the pregnant moon!

The brain of mine engrave as an artist,

Some of the ideas that are the smartest!

I sit here

Pondering the terrifying 

The loss of breath

The loss of self

The lonely road to oblivion

All we have

Is these moments

Time is unforgiving 

Fate is inevitable 

Love is our legacy

Sometimes, I realize how different I am.

A shape that doesn't fit into any one particular place

Odd man out

When I look back on how versatile I've always been

Lots of different cliques, not a singular type of friend

Expending everything I have to be someone people want to talk to

But for what?

What am I searching for?

I can identify so many beautiful things that I have

In real life

A short few people who actually love me, for me

When I need them, they come through

In depth long conversation

Or just a simple cup of coffee because they're near

These are tried and true relationships

Sometimes I realize how different I am.

The tallest tree in the forest, towering above those who directly surround her

Or the tiniest grain of sand, undifferentiated, lost in an endless desert

So much the same, but uniquely separate in perspective

Nothing better, nothing worse

Just different...

If I had the choice to be somene else, in another place, another position

I wouldn't think twice before turning it down

I realize this isolation is an opportunity to turn myself around

I was once lost, and once again I will be found

I know I won't find myself in the struggle of another

So, I'll stop attempting to drown myself in the company of others

The silence, the absence, the willingness to be with me

The effort, The choice, The solace

It's become my sole necessity