counterpoint

life's worth living, love's worth giving. heart's all giddy, lung's all shitty. days full of regret, nights full of pressing reset. pixelated nostalgia reintegrates paranoia. paranoia in a good sense of the word. it keeps me on my toes. helps me to achieve my life's goals. permeates the existance of my whims and woes. i dream of knocking the shit out of my foes, so i carry my verbal shank to a knifefight, but i don't how to flip it out and use it right. i carry my literal shank through life's limelight because i never know when i might need it. i have what is necessary, the basic essentials. friends, family, money and feed. it's just the greed that seeps from my being that makes me wish i had those things i've been seeing. phone vibrating and ringing, and my soul singing. heart's still beating. minds still reading thoughts and putting them to blank canvas through verbal, hardcopy, or sloppy erasermarked drawings. the back left side of my head is pounding with pain and my eyes are hellishly strained, but i keep typing away because i have these thoughts on my brain. everything kind of fits together in the long run, like that puzzle with all blue pieces and only one way to finish it. piecing this life together is a hell of a ride. i'm on the top of the largest drop, or maybe halfway down, i can't tell. bombs explode around the world, but i'm safe over here in my little corner, unable to sleep with this marathon mind, making a million miles a minute.