motherfuckgepetto:

okay, i did another thing. second time ever recording myself reading poetry, so sorry if the quality is shit. felt very nervous about recording/posting this one idk. this is the background song/video. shouts out to steve roggenbuck and lil b for completely ruining my life. enjoy.

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‘if we really try our best then maybe we can all be buddha’

the sun is always setting somewhere
and tomorrow is just a word.

if everything has already been said
then instead i will say it with a typewriter.

imagine right now being born.
maybe the sole purpose of our existence
is to become aware of our own existence—
i feel so online right now.

i tattooed a picture of the horsehead nebula directly onto my dick
so every time i look down when i ejaculate i remember what it feels like
to be infinite.

the world is such a beautiful place because you are alive and the internet exists.
the last time i went to sleep was when i had dial up and was waiting for a connection.
my religion is internet and every day is christmas.

i want to be hugging you while we accumulate debt.
i want to be hugging you while standing next to a bonfire of all of our material possessions.
i want to be hugging you while rolling around in our own vomit and they will write poetry about us.

if we really try our best, then maybe we can all be buddha.
the world is such a beautiful place and i was just wondering:
do you want to fall in love with literally everything
with me?

i don’t even care if you think of steve roggenbuck
while watching this video; we could be dead tomorrow.
we could be dead tomorrow.
we could be dead tomorrow.

‘any time at all can be a new beginning.’

good morning internet, what a beautiful day.
what a beautiful day to be posting on the internet.
what a beautiful day to be reminded of how alive i am.
what a beautiful day to be made aware of my own existence.

life sucks, i know, but we can suck harder.
death is just a moment when dying ends
so let’s live a life that would make death proud of us.

the clouds of this grey night will always pass
and the morning will always come. the birds will again cry
and fly over fields of flowers bursting alive
with scents too sweet for any dictionary to define.

your soul knows nothing of character limits.
your soul knows nothing of headstones.
your soul knows nothing of death
because even in death the stars will still shine;
it just takes some time for their light to be seen.

the sun is always rising somewhere
and yesterday,
yesterday was just a word.

(via tilttilttilt)