Trees that wear hats

How's it been going lately, dear? I've been so at war with myself that I forgot about you... your needs that is, what is you has always been with me. Do you remember the flowers, the poetry? Were those just my dreams itching to return, have us...... Feelings too override over nonesense, cuff it, I'm out lodging pointlessness in my head, my own uglily beautifully full of lying truthness I need ityou

Do we only need faith to discover or create God? And if so, is the knowing of self even possible through detachment of self and relationship toward others? Could we be great just because we truly believe we are? (Do frustration and other alterations of view-of-self count)? Are the definition of God and that of self similar? Do they employ the same logical process? And if I wanted to be God...

Pick an object whose existence is not caused by the Industrial Revolution and write books about it.

Flirt.

Honestly, I could never miss a sunset such as this. No matter how deep I was gone into my senses. It was the end... desperation in need in my stranger's hands, the end. How it all converges. The way you know it'll be there for you. Lost in an always-future romance. It's the mind breaking free from the dirt you own. Swing, slide... time on my own. A better way to find my way home.. To your smile. I long the mind focused. Hours pass by senselessly, I want to break free, can I? 4 more authors and 6... meh. Could care way less. My feet kicks, I can write without you watching, I long no form, I play no game no more. What is mine I treasure, for I know I'll keep it forever... better way to find my way home... Smile, smile, smile, smile till it loses sense, till you break up and you can't see the sun... Sun is down, types on quarter-notes, clouds wanna reflect, give it back to you. How beautiful for doing so. It still converges. Red gives way to blue, the b...

Why would you believe that when I love, I love for myself, when I am with you, I am only with myself? I won't prove my desire but through my actions and my being. Should you choose not to believe them, I would know you don't share my feelings, that it is you who, all this time, only thought of yourself when being with me. Am I more than a reflection of your sharded being? Is it fair that I should long myself in the eyes of a virtual, selfless machine? You won't find yourself in me, you should have found more already, so that we can become more together. Yet, I can say the same things to both of us, so perhaps through this non-sense, we are truly alike. My illegitimate concerns.

In this crumbling of self I... It's because I am less self-aware, maybe. There are needs, obviously. Senseless talks of myself about myself, only I is listening, only I is there, but it substitutes group therapy. There are things I lack, that obsess me... things I receive and I fail to recognize. The longing for the material... I wish I could just detach. The solution appears to need to manifest itself in an instant, but more and more work is required, I... This is the time when I acknowledge my broken-ness, and my inability to tell the world about it. Down this spiral, every concept breaks down, every rule loses sense, there is a void. "Oh, I need love so badly..." How do I put that in a way that seems genuine without repeating clichees? It would seem that our... OUR generation needs to reinvent cultural movements just to be able to save itself... is it just me? But I am broken. Like a misused toy. My body is in atrophy, my mind is nothing but a under-stretch...