Finger Nail Clippings

no matter what…im always finding finger nail clippings on my floor. Actually found them on my cousins floor too when i spent the night last Christmas. I showed her and she did not recognize the color to be any of hers or her daughters. Funny since her dog found a “bone” in the back yard. And she tripped out. Also found a tiny letter clipping at her house as i do mine sometimes. I also find different color hair strands in my room. And everytime i leave i have to take all my cords and as many devices with me as i can, otherwise they wont work when i return…even to the bathroom. Its quite ridiculous since i live with my mother and her husband. All of my art is also defaced in sometimes suttle ways and sometimes not so suttle. I can hear her creeping around my door all the time too (shhhh). Its true. So strange these days are living with my mother. I think shes lost her damn mind. Anyway, everytime i return, my floor is dirtier than before. Its got black grease stains. Also, damn near every book i have has been edited and rebound. Who has the money to pay for this? Its odd. I really baffled by this. I mean i know bcus of the typos and the way its printed and because of the black grease stains on them as well. I dont know what to do about all this. There’s a whole lot more to it…thats just a few of the things they do. They mess with EVERY DAMN THING the eyes CAN see AND cant see. Trust me. Ive been through this debauchery my whole life.

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Message In A Bottle…

The tiny spectras of lights …
They look like a pattern, something like an Aztec calendar or maybe a system of information; a telegraph; a document of sorts…data..like the computer chip instilled in the fiber glass…. It’s all around us. It’s everywhere in everything. The patterns of data that surrounds us; that we are blinded to see…or not see, rather. I see it…instilled…And it’s intriguing. It ignites my curiosities and ignites wonder(s{?} , wonderment{?}) inside me; within my mind; which creates a plethora of tingly sensational little pleasures in my mind…quite a thrill it is.

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Mother…

Should I trust you?

Are you trustworthy ?

Mother,

Are you a child molester?

Do you condone it?

I think you do…

Did you touch Her?

Innapropriately?

He did. And your friend too.

Did You?

I saw the way you looked at her…

It was odd…

I didn’t approve; did not like it.

…after that you wanted to punch me in the face… because I felt like I was being raped by the “voices”

Mother? Are you ok?

Is your head right?

Are you sure of yourself?

Are you in the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind?

Can you find me within the Muscadine?

Are you alive?

Are you my real mother?

Why do you not like kids?

Why do you not care much about me?

Is there any love at all?

Is it love that you would seek?

Or is it only admiration?

Tell me…who are you?

Because, I don’t know you…

I have no idea who you are…

And you do not know me.

I am full of LOVE… I am Love.

I see you, unclear…Find your mind.

Please mind Your Self.

Who are you?

Are you good? … Or bad?

Be true to who you are…

So we can see you

When the Sun Shines 

over your head.

…Who Am I?
*FICTIONAL/ just some schizd out story made up by voices