spokenself's profile picture. Writer / Artist / Semiotician. Original works with Orginal words. Dialectic gasps between the illusion of living it up.  -----------------EX LIBRIS - G

Spoken Self

@spokenself

Writer / Artist / Semiotician. Original works with Orginal words. Dialectic gasps between the illusion of living it up. -----------------EX LIBRIS - G

Knowing is not understanding. An internet of knowing without understanding.


#tuesdaythought 🥃🔥🌙🍾 Tilt sift.

spokenself's tweet image. #tuesdaythought 🥃🔥🌙🍾 Tilt sift.

Swing cotton. 🔆

spokenself's tweet image. Swing cotton. 🔆

Hey pattern.Impression.Expired. attention.left overs,affection.Repeat after pith.Self assurance in myth,found currency.Prices currently fit.


A new year begins.


I am standing so close to the painting of my own life that I cannot see myself in it.


We use cheap enamels to hold all our moving parts together, less moves us if at all or never, we barely have the will to lift our heads


A lonely victory,with common words,surrounding every thread inside myself,dividing right beside me,divisions a heart with no memmory.


I can only be me,but some people wish it,I wasn't myself, and who could be me,but no one is me,so I remain me,since I'm nobody else.


Im ready for the day like Im waiting for tonight,in the middle of the night, nightlife & beyond that where Im going,certainly a knife fight.


Raveled along the last one left,thoughts tisking laces between very special sentiment & nobody really wants you,rough corners to hang out on


There's only two lanes at a time,one lane in my direction,a good direction,only one other lane,a bad decision, only one lane separates us.


Long conquest over midnight,wreck patterned lives,artful armaments,blaming hard bets,over children,over building,whats left over after this.


A sway beat rocks,shook faces balk against eachother,sweat filled pretense paints the floor,moved away to forget,moving nightly to remember


We've all visited armories in the arms of others, impaired our passionate approach,a trick performed in the heart asks us to concede


Adopting a lie,never made for you and I,a luxury,we are alone in a desert upon waking,thirsty from a draught of solid dreams


coloring books in stacks-unfinished,marshaling the spaces,penciled lines in color traces,embraces,ceremonies from a songs that drive us home


The freeway signs boast,scattered billboards become the children of totem poles and ancient pillars,broken histories fading in the sun daily


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