Mush

| writing | poetry | love |

A mushy gushy crush is nothing but a crock of shit. No one cares and no one talks and no one really gives a shit. You can sit here and cry all day but nothing will ever change. No president or king or prince will ever stop all this violence. Its sad to say but this fine day is going to be the last. I wish I could but know I would be there when you pass.

I love you man, like a true friend and hope you will remember. The times we had the times we shared the times we spent together. I love a cow like a milk dud in a pond.

I eat nothing but a man’s threshold to humanity. Slowly breaking free of a trap inside of a closet. And I like it.

I dream about succulent juices secreted from the rotten core of a being that you purchase on the side of the road. And I like it.

I think that nothing in this world would make me feel more complete then the total self-awareness as I am strapped into my seat and fucked into oblivion. And I like it.

Nothing, no one, no, yes, maybe, who the fuck knows.

Its all over anyways.

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via Information Overload April 2, 2026

The Blandness of Systematic Rules vs. The Delight of Localized Sensitivity

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via Jim Nielsen’s Blog April 2, 2026

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