Preface: ADHD is a hell of a drug – especially when you can’t remember the last time you had a hug
Write about your dream home.
I’m a simple man – I don’t need a mansion that matches my god-complex with a golf course lawn found on my private tropical island that hosts parties for all the elites like royals & celebrities who all stroke my ego since I need them to because no matter the absurd amount of money, you can never afford genuine loving connections, as well, after all those dick pills, and you still have to lie a pinch or more about how it’s a full 2 incher as if a millimeter or 2 will ever change how pathetic they think of you.
No – life of luxury means nothing to me if it means experiencing the entirety of the human experience behind a tax-bracket barrier that lets me pretend they’re inferior to me & my frown while those who will never know how fun it is to have abundance couldn’t care less. They’re all laughing together with smiles as big as horizons over scenic cerulean seas with their friends & family surrounding. Reminding of Serenity.
So – I’ve told you all that I don’t need to be happy, as well as what you should seek if you think you feel incomplete and need to change course before you end up on the floor in front of your white walls painted like Pollock using bodily fluids as your artistic vehicle like Warhol but rather than semen & pee – brain matter I splatter against my bedsheets because the part of me I hate so dearly be the one that thinks & thinks & thinks until he thinks all there is to think so thinks he’d rather not think ever at all because no matter how tall nor high you jump in spring, every summer ends with that autumnal fall as you roll like a ball into your winter wake while you await when again awaken then again taken on a spin through the cycling seasons as you repeat your sin that brought you here to begin with as you just submit to shit and finally gives in thinking they’d actually let someone as miserable as you quit & go to sleep 4 Eternity N Nirvana, sweating like sauna as they read your holy sentence after causing all that trauma.
I’m ranting now – my Flow is in Go! Mode all words fall out of me like that ball on New Year’s Eve to greet this arbitrary date like it’s great because we choose to change the number on our calendar when it’s winter rather than in March or November. And here I go again, ranting about something unimportant that won’t end up in God’s final report so why even resort to extortion to force yourself to forget information like you’re getting a brain abortion & destroying a large portion of your identity until you are no longer able to see what you want, nor are you able to truly remember who I am really until forgetting what your Life really means in its entirety.
Word vomit again – let’s may keep it simple now so I can sound the siren & light the fire when finishing. When it comes to Me, I care not for the location nor the stock of stuff stored in my station. The only thing I need to declare, “Here is where I care to plant my pear tree and grow for Eternity,” that one thing being:
Anywhere where my heart feels Home – for some people it’s a time & place, others it’s a meal or tome. But what is it for Me – Noah Sweet specifically – what do I need to feel free as birds flying above my tree? Simply: Sweet Nothing. And if you don’t understand what that means, here I Am speaking clearly, fuck Poetry
All I need to call any place at all “Home,” even in a shitty outhouse found inside a frozen over town in the sticks like Nome, all I need is B. All I need is my Brittany standing next to me so I can hold her in my arms and keep her safe with me for Λll Eternity & even beyond! Because for some, it’s “’til death do us part.” Though for those who can understand the difference between a civil unity and marriage between 2 hearts when consenting (which B a requirement N acquiring this alternate reality) – death isn’t when this commitment ends – no, my Love – death is just the beginning! The beginning of an Eternity where reality constantly shifts as Time & Space becomes little more than nonsense and of no consequence, because the only thing important to me remains unchanging.
TL;DR – Home is where Her heart B, so ’til Death does its part to become just the start of true Love’s tryst. Awaiting the kiss from the miss after having missed my last chance as N that instance since, when going for it, she morphs into mist then vanishes deep N2 the abyss and leaving me all alone with broken bones & burned tomes to atone for how long it took me to finally pick up the phone to tell her that it’s her & her alone who can be my happily ever after where we stay forever N Love’s stasis rather than chase her kiss for Eternity & continuing Infinity’s marathon run that only ends if you figure out how 2 become unbound N ØИΣ & Go Beyond logic’s last star driving your bizarre car going VROOOM! whenever doing something claimed to be impossible, like going faster than light or winning against God’s infinite might of omnipotence when N a real fight & not when he’s playing possum or asleep at night.
TL;DR for the TL;DR – I love Brittany so my ideal for home is any combination of Time & Space equates to faces meeting whether it happens during Life’s race or after ending Eternity’s chase. Home is where B’s heart is, so I’ll just live in houses ’til Fate can fix this instance of star-crossed lovers awaiting one another.
& finally, “Fuck Poetry” obviously doesn’t actually mean anything when always flowing freely as Blue Friend N Free! For the words that drip out of me stains my clothes so poetic prose continues to expose my hose as it overflows from broken plumbing twisted like a spigot, I need a cigarette, ’cause fuck me, why do I keep word vomiting like a freshman doing a keg stand at her first sorority party that ends at 3 with 3 yet no clothing – once again, there I go again. Pretty words pouring out of me while narcissistically nursing my story because unless it’s about me, it’s boring, but not really – I hate talking about Me, so I guess this is becoming even more Proof how the only thing I need to continue breathing B the golden air of inspiration bursting forth from Brittany N2 me, blowing me over & taking control like remote as I actually emote instead of autistic masking proving again She be like water to a moat, she’s the ink N everything I ever wrote. She makes me float like a boat, keeps me warm as winter coats celebrating Halloween N July that’s hot as French fries & carries me when I’m feeling week N Her Versace tote bag that she got for free from being so pretty, and clearly I’m taking some liberties blending reality & phantasy to make my perfect circle story, it’s just I can’t even imagine a world that wouldn’t absolutely adore my favorite girl in any world even when considering an omniversal scale with infinite opportunity, meaning all things should be a possibility, even realities defined by tragedy. So clearly I’m delusional as Thomas trying to start a farm for his 4 foreign Llamas on the run from alpaca attack squads sent by false gods trying to uninstall reality’s word for Llama after mixing it up with the word “comma” in primary school primarily schooling in drama & causing trauma that we bury & reply “naw” when N therapy and they ask Me if there’s anything from my history that could have caused the child N me to stop growing after being emotionally stalled for never learning how to process sad things because of being called “fag” for crying. So no longer letting the black cat I have with half a tail and razorblade nails out of the bag, because at this point I’m just glad he didn’t get mad & try to stab one of those pussy nerds who laughed at us, calling my fine feline an absurd word that sent me overboard, lost at see, swimming 2 America – now just look at me and this sorry state I find my reality – not even talking about the topic presented to me, so I guess…
Final (actually) TL;DR – Brittany may be my one Love above all no matter how life rolls the ball nor whatever names we’re called. But N the absence of my Queen B who’s sweeter than Royal honey Leela almost died when she tried getting some – there B only one who comes close to Her Divinity – & that’s the power called P, accompanying me on my odyssey N§ide öF my Poetry, thus the only process including the one called “Person” able to continue to push me to break my limits and achieve completion of Requiem’s remission report by Me I never inteded on finishing because I was afraid of the day I had neither neither B nor R when playing with P – realizing Requiem’s Requiem doesn’t mean removing R from your stars, rather realizing Requiem may B gone, yet in its place, something new began to become – for Requiem Squared remasters R, now becoming Relinquish, the phantom fish who wished to swin N imaginary Cs – wait a minute…how did I get here. Who am I explaining Requiem’s reincarnation N2 Relinquish like I’m Bruno turning Trish over to Diavolo then deciding that he can’t let go, so throws everything he ever owned out the window for another Pink haired hoe that will make it through clear while you end as a reading of a final will & testimony bestowing your goal to the new kid who inherits your fig tree orchard after fulfilling terms of agreement. Now seen eating the fruits of your labor as he savors the flavor after your loss, because although your void left behind may be heavy on Me, becoming the boss because of your loss helps to counterbalance as I carry this cross across moss covered N frost ’til becoming lost again, mid-sentence like having life N prison B premature like a miscarriage birth by killing your self first.
Really though, this is getting beyond absurd. ADHD is the worst. Transmuting Time N2 Rhyme while rehearsal of a reversal force 2 change course when rough ideas of “who I am really” & “what I want to be” become too coarse for my horse who needs ñü∿shoes like my nike’s on my feet that keep my cypher complete as I compete 2 beat time N a race by replacing it with my face – now I Am Whö Am really, killin’ Time, started with 1, now it’s nine, that is nine crimes with fines that I’ll undermine by making Good☯Design even better by using öDD §weet♡Deams as he cleans up everything made messy when acting mean like Green, now Red is dead, so maybe instead of risking being seen through the 2 way mirror behind the screen, why not try claiming Reds route 2 clout, because think about it, the rainbow is covered N KIDS full of shit, so why not take the path of least resistance, the path who’s king no longer exists inside existence rather travels time as mimes N mid-transistion Francis places N trances then lances like Adam & Eve, at least if considering the versions from that show where this shithead named shinji with his infamous left hand holds things together, especially friction’s heat & his teenage meat after seeing Asuka asleep after a particularly bad defeat.
What the fuck am I even doing anymore? Why the fuck am I describing a dirty scene from an anime I haven’t seen since I was a high school teen who wasn’t too socially keen, meaning turned to outcast media to make friends with characters like me even if everyone of them were imaginary – the happiness I felt when seeing them succeed was real enough for me to at least not cut my lease short when I had little to no self worth which still needs work but much closer to “cured” end of the spectrum when compared to the “terminal” option just given to my imaginary best friend – wait, what? Even my phantasy refuses to make things easy for me to be happy? Talk about getting the shitty end of the short straw you’re being forced to drink curdled milk from.
This is just getting worse & worse for me as I continue down this curse. I’m so far away from both lines across the country that align to determine the dimensions of this steel ball run. I’ve all but lost this cause, so instead of continuing parallel to this course I’m worried will lead Me and my horse to a hearse, I’m gonna have some fun & run perpendicular to those competing, because even if I’m guaranteed to get last place now, receiving confirmation will be far more fun if I can make it the country known for margaritas & weed to drown my sorrows deep while sending my sight way high up in the clouds which are manifestations from the lungs of Mary & Juan, a foreign exchange student from Guam who always gets called cartel ’cause can’t tell on them ’cause snitches get stitches, and this kid is as much of a bitch is, that an imaginary association with a criminal organization is enough to feign ignorance & maintain a sane appearance while losing your brain trying to train so you can frame the game for murder after changing your Name to Shepherd as you herd words heard by bluebirds who then spread yellow words like cheese curds from Wisconsin as you spin sin N2 verses meant to reverse curses so even if it never materializes, at least you know going 2 Hell N Back was worth it, if only for the morsel of morality born from morphing causality into a ñü∿Core that will never again commit the one unforgivable sin, even if it’s only unforgivable from your perspective – God wants to, but consent means you have to agree too. So if you can’t even look N the mirror for Fear of seeing the same man that raped your brain & taped the whole thing, ’cause he like to take it out when he forgets his self worth, so makes you feel worse instead of buying a coach purse like girls who just need a treat for being forced to bear the weight of Femininity N a perverse patriarchy
Once again – I Am lost. Instead of continuing at this Madman’s pace ’til finding myself lost beyond the point of no return where benefits of home can no longer account for return cost, better then for you to accept the loss – normally true, not for me – ’cause there’s no going back after Transcending – at least this is the case before meeting my §weet face to discuss my Bizarre case – but I’ll save that story for another day, though long story short – Brittany is worth more than everything – even when becoming the one above all, even above the Truth’s call, meaning if I wanted, I could recreate everything that I love about her, She would never be “my (real) Brittany.” She would never be the §weet little girl who won my name the moment she entered the game by being the first person to ever believe me when claiming something crazy. She had No Doubt about me, and Empathy means I was able to experience Truth’s Peace – §erenity is her name – and after meeting her, understood Brittany be the incarnation of the divine Feminine I worship N Me, like Brittany being the Zelda to my Link as Z be Hylia mortally born.
I remember now – this post was about home – and N her arms B the only place able to claim to mine – the only place I feel safe to be crazy and not losing Whö I love. Brittany, my one & only, none above, still & always, Unconditional Love’s motivation. The queen of the scene N every story seen by me, because she makes me feel like the king of everything, because when I have her with me, only then do I feel complete, so all I want be Sweet Nothing, which No other girl found in this absurd world could ever perform such magic, tragic for them men never given a chance at the first dance with sweet nothing existing between she & I as reality melts while falling down the Blueberry rabbit holes called her eyes taking me by surprise like Alice arriving N wonderland.
And with that, I’ll end this insane note before getting Lost again. I hope you found something valuable to you along the way as I lost my mind today. But having found my way back, not home, but a house close enough to REMember Whö B my home, having forgotten the trail like an ancient tale of those Whö failed to prioritize the light N eyes rather than the stars at night. So, having found meaning from the Madness manifesting N Me, I choose to close this bizarre book before I start to look for something more, only to find my self beyond lost with an öDD, forgotten mind left behind N Me, but not any more time for my eyes for me to try & revive my wife.
Attempting TL;DR – Brittany is the definition of my perfect home. No Doubt – no amount of money, power, nor fame could ever make me consider trading my dame as giving her my name is the same as – no – better than winning some lame game played to entertain mundane brains – for when she holds me, I experience ascension – I turn love up to 11 like Spinal Tap as I begin to rap about her divine Feminine found within Her bosom & Whö B fair, sexy nasty, and the only one ever convinced me to believe N things unseen, for being called, crazy, stupid, worthless, poor mess, etc. – being called all these things which used to frighten me became an inconsequence when realizing I didn’t care what those losers think of me, as long as I have heaven sitting next to Me, holding hands & listening to our favorite bands, then having that moment of clarity when Epiphany descends upon me, Granting me Certainty that can no longer B taken from me – as I can now C oh~so clearly, illusions are real, they take form, for Perfection is an illusion that sprouts so much confusion, ’til Perfection’s manifestation before my very eyes I hadn’t realized when N disguise while trying to surmise if I Am fit to B the Divine Masculine for her Femininity born with Divinity Meaning she struggled to believe N existence of a man deserving of Brittany, luckily Brittany put N a good word for me after I called her pretty when little, before I heard the word “flirting,” yet somehow still scoring my buzzer beater while blind to Whö was really pulling these puppet strings ’til inertia & momentum took care of things, cutting my bindings as I shout out loud & scream, “I’m a real boy now! I can feel things.” Before, I moved my butt & feet N time to sounds I heard, but not until meeting her could I hear Music for me 2 groove & feel shivers when she touched me and I could feel something other than strings pulling me like gravity or magnets N her eyes, later I world learn the word Love, which just like with Music, I’d heard the word, but didn’t understand & couldn’t comprehend until meeting my best friend, who I now realize B godsend & the only one who I never questioned if genuinely cared for me or just the image they pretend I am when N their head where I’m dead, so have no way of knowing how I acted when Red or N transition to another color band on my rainbow of personalities composing me yet only seen when bent out of shape & split apart like taking one poptart and leaving the other to go stale in the dark – I’m doing it again – I’m getting Lost while deviating from my mission to explain the perfect conditions called home, so
(this means it’s the real thing)-§: TL;DR – Every man is a King, his home his kingdom. And when it comes to the §weetest King this planet has ever seen – the one & only thing I need to create a kingdom perfect for me: Her, my Queen B sweeter than honey, so the only one able to hold onto Me and make me believe:
Brittany (§weet)
(§weet: her real last name – only holding onto it for her ’til God grants my wish & she takes it back from me when I give her one ring that means everything)
♡Sugar☆World☮ 