Hot Air Balloons Make For The Best Of Barbarians

No worries, we can bring him down.
I say,
Not a single worry.
Cloud nine is still a cloud,
it's just air.
It is seriously just air.
Up there,
Not a care,
I think I'll throw him a rope.
That could be it, he just needs help getting down.
I wonder how hot it is up there...
It must be way hot,
too hot.
And windy too,
incredibly windy.
What does he think he can even do?
He has nothing.
Why does he dance,
when he has nothing.
Does he know the world is down here with us?
I'll throw a rock to get him to come down.
He needs to know he shouldn't be up there.
Its dangerous.
Does he even know the risks?
He's crazy,
that's it.
He's simply crazy.
A barbarian,
entirely barbaric.
Maybe if i find a stick,
He will notice me.
This one's sharp, I'll throw this one.
I'm not happy,
it's about time he come down now.
Everyone else isn't up there,
I don't get it.
Stop smiling,
It's not funny.
What could be so funny?
Why doesn't he notice me?
He's going now.
Over there,
but he still isn't coming down. I'll follow him. Right over there. This is hurting my neck.
The sun is too bright.
I can barely see. Is he singing? How could he possibly sing,
he could
FALL
AT
ANY
MOMENT.
He definitely needs to come down now. I don't like this. I'm not enjoying this.
Stop smiling.
Oh god,
It's hard to watch, he doesn't even know this is dangerous.
I would,
NEVER
DO
THIS.
He's climbing higher now?
Where is he going?
This is horrible,
just horrible. Howcouldhepossiblybedoingthis,ican'timaginedoingthismyself,andwhatcouldevenbethereforhimoncehegetsthere.
He doesn't have a purpose.
I don't see whats so wonderful about where he's going.
I guess...
Iguessijustdontgetitiguess...
How much money does it take to get there?
I wonder what it's like.
Is it still black and white?
Is his significant other up there with him?
She would have to be, it would be improper,
utterly improper to leave her down here.
How could he do that?
How dare him to leave her down here,
HOW
DARE
HIM.
Maybe he's alone.
That's not possible,
no one is alone.
Who could want to be alone?
Oh,
how pathetic he is, up there, alone.
He has no one!
Pathetic.
I think he is alone,
I don't understand.
I think he is alone,
I don't understand.
I think he is alone,
I don't understand.
Stop dancing,
your alone.
He's so far up there,
I can barely see.
The sun hurts my eyes.
My neck throbs from examining.
My feet hurt from following.
At least it's safe down here,
THANK
GOD.
I
FEEL
SAFE.
He is definitely not worth knowing.
I'm glad I'm not up there.
He has nothing.
It's too bright out.
Stop smiling.
I don't like this.
I'll throw something.
He is not safe.
Where is his house?
My neck hurts.
I don't understand.
He is crazy.
Stop enjoying yourself.
He is not worth knowing, he is not worth my time, he has nothing.
Why is he happy.
He is not worth anything,
He has nothing.
...
Well,
I guess I'll go home now.

A Chariot Into The Sun Painted My Sky Auburn.

What have you,
when you have turned your back on passion.
I ask you to look back and justify your every doing,
your every action,
your every reason,
your every thought.
What guides these justifications?
What have we done with ourselves once we blind our passion?
This is what I have done.
I am done.
Done believing in an incorrect path with misguided insight to goals that are not flowing of passionate movements.
What am I doing?
I am doing me.
Until it's over.
So we shall...
dance the river walk,
swim the clouded skies of glowing oranges and yellows,
and dream of the dreamy dreams of unique musicality free flowing through the cornfields once again.
Wherever you have gone is no longer matter,
I have you in my arms again.
We have a new twist now,
a new taste,
a flavor entirely sweet.
Let's make music again.
I want to summon a sound so percolating of every desired endeavor my mind has ever discovered upon any single interest.
Lets just melt together,
unique of every personal quality,
just melting,
separately together,
smiling as we liquefy away into every crevasse our momentum escorts us.
We will date our motivation once again.
The moon will crow, and we phase nothing but light hues of glowing five-in-the-mornings.
I allure an inspiration here.
I'm not sure how or why.
Proof is not a blue-print, but a crafted discovery unnecessary of any propriety.
We will date our motivation once again.
The moon will crow, and we phase nothing but light hues of glowing five-in-the-mornings.
Prancing hooves disperse a sense of enlightenment from an emotion deserving nothing but the best of chariots.

Your motivational horse power allures me.

Dear Motivation: I'm Staring At White Walls CurrentlyOfCourse White At Staring I'm

So,
here it goes,
round two.
conclusion old.
void, unfulfilled.
How interesting is it, that one must simply float instead of tread,
                                                             in order to get to point B?
 What is point B?
                                            Will I enjoy point B?
And isn't the true point, the journey of point A to B?
Once a strong believer, now demolished.
I used to say:
Strength takes the sacrifice of, of. of
... anything,
for what one loves.
I don't contradict,
                  But I took the toll on me...
road.
And here I am, asking why. Never thought I would see it coming.
I'm being lead by an insufficient leader.
I'm being lead by someone I couldn't lead.
You try lassoing a liquid and tell me your a success.
I have become a boy of simplistic, barbaric mess,
Dreaming an immaculate lucid dream of dream killing void.
There is a spark however. Inside me.
Watching,
recoiled,
motion on extreme delay.
The moment I find you, I grasp you by the throat so hard,
and probably be in the same spot,
doing the same thing,
being the same boy,
withholding the same thoughts,
pouring my heart out to myself.
                                                          But I know ill be happy.

spacebar

I sit,
crying on the inside,
Blank on the out.
I'm deserted in such a beautiful place,
the atmosphere is all new,
just what I wanted.
So, where are you?
I sit,
crying on the inside.
I thought you would be along my side,
for every journey.
Where are you now?
Please help me breathe,
I'm loosing all my sight,
yes,
I'm loosing my vision.
Upon a desert so dry,
envisioned with weaved promises.
Color was supposed to be colour.
Black was supposed to be white.
I was supposed to fly with you, in the clouds, in the air, the fresh air, the warm air, mylungswouldfillwithyourbreathjustbytheopeningofmymouth...
But i don't see you.
Why haven't you filled my page with tasteful vocabulary?
Where is the ease of your influence at my fingertips?
I
Scream
ontheinside, but i cant open my mouth.
Someone is man-ing my gates from the outside,
something is barricading me,
I'm blocked.
Let me out, be my release again,
may I please be in touch?
I can't even taste my words anymore, just image-less, unsalted words of pathetic babbling dripping down my chin
...
Ground is getting softer,
grass is modified by crooked smiles.
Brown envelopes around me in an open field,
I'm dragged out here by this rope around my ankle,
strong held by false guidance.
moving slower, muck is loving me.
It smiles at me, it greets me.
I choose not to turn back,
I turn stained in mud,
brown is all around me.
Slugging slower,
Growing nowhere,
Painting with water,
I realize now.
You are in the distance behind my vision of any angle,
and I'm covered.
Muck is hugging me now, warm with fulfillment, satisfied with my every endeavor.
Muck wants to promise me something,
I guess I'm stuck.
I will figure it out though,
I always do.
I will find your memory, and I will forget about the angry laughs around me, and every hated image that ever restricted me. I will equation my way through this muck and be with you, and we can be the only two to hold reality in a pathetic, crowded, dying scene of something I once called passion. Your still there, and I will rescue you.