Sometimes serious

Given some time to yourself you will go back and remember in detail all the things that were painful, how they were worded how was abuse constructed how some things were unfair and some that broke you for days, not so long ago. You thought you were formed now thought you were clear on who you were but you find yourself unwrapping or layering up [you can't tell which] into a new complex as someone who has been far from done. Your jokes don't work here all the well rehearsed lines don't sound others appear as lies and some as a farce Slips of tongue are not cute you see, nobody knows you and nobody can be sure. You know not anymore how you were who you had what you did Or how old you are supposed to be and how to act that age and what that means the experiences you've had, have prepared you for other things but not these and those things didn't come but these others came instead and are here now teasing.

love saves only when nothing else threatens it saves from an imaginary death from loneliness beauty is right at the skin, inside the skin is gore outside the skin is an irreverent universe that is the trap the promise of eternal enjoyment on the other side of being able to learn and hence habituate and hence lose by semantic satiation. and at the skin there is a delicate balance of convicts who are wronged and free murderers. type 1 and type 2 errors in equal measure at the skin, a great wall of self protection with measurable happiness.