Here’s the order of my most recent chaotic mental battlefield I show up to. Words and unthought thoughts. Who so ever gave us thought, once likely regretted it. But we’re born with it. Create memories with it. Make different stories based on emotions with it. We start writing mastering wordplay with it. Follow my site and I’ll show you how easy I take it, starting with dust and lent.

November 20, 2018

When it speaks, it often doesn’t shut the entire fuck up. But I finally figured out the dark space we see as a canvas in the night, to the shining stars up in our sky’s sight.

Bright and early in the morning, I lied in bed with dust particles floating and twirling.

Beneath the Sun I’m born under, it shined as bright into my window like summer.

This wasn’t Earth’s blunder… so it made me wander, because I’m born in Winter.

Exposing me to dust particles, the fuck I’m suppose’ to think with those!?

Yet I gazed and wandered into the bliss for an answer. The more I rushed it, my thoughts began to candor. This is the same stuff we wipe off furniture, after it rests from spaces in space like a jumper.

However, this is all in thought, seeking the unthought. Who woulda’ thought, dust particles be the light. Emerging in sight through light so lite.

GOD blesses the dust we wipe.

And it once came to me in rap music, but with ambient, that too queues it.

As thoughts be the pieces I order, constructing each into a skeletal martyr, it creates the body of published and polished words for me to sound smarter.

Because the one thing I avoid is confusion. And I often leave it be. Since it’s a rule to sharpen, tool to mark them, out-ruling me often, now go on and park them…..

….words because you aren’t them.

Each has you smarter by the initials we’re carvin’.


Born and raised in Portland, Oregon, Budd writes because no one can 'read' him. And it's a great way to hide public thoughts...

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