Always questioning my motives of creation, why do you do things without asking?
But why does there need to be one?
Creation of the mind tells truth of the individual.
Don’t get me wrong, personal aesthetic of object selection expresses your individuality as well.
Every rule constructs your personality, changed rules, a life of many deaths.
Find without looking, and bring it to the physical.
Go and enjoy the view, when things get crazy do some playing, just not in my house.
How about those nagging thoughts of intrusion? Like strangers in the home.
I wish my mind was like a finely décor home, why not both, why not be a stranger in someone else’s home?
Just because you are silent doesn’t mean you are not in control.
Knowledge just keep to yourself, assume oblivious, I hear noises around me.
Leave me alone, don’t step over me, look but don’t touch.
My motives are my own, I’d rather play here on my carpet and draw.
No one can see me, let’s leave it that way.
Open your home to me, let my essence of mind be in your company.
Personal objects have memory of history, your maps and my maps might look good together
Quiver, these combinations excite me, I can see them furnished in my mind
Rest assured there is no one behind you, or is there? Are you sure? Maybe they hid? Shut up, stop talking.
Stare at me if you want me to feel threatened, who is in control?
Together we can work together, your physical space and my mental space
Under the carpet is there a spider? No. They are all around me, I can’t escape. Can no one else see them?
Various emotions, must document into my own personal language of creation
What is a word of language but its own encrypted code of an idea? Study my language to understand.
Xenophobia turns me on, all these strangers around me, no it’s in my head, makes me want to stay in bed
Your home objects are nice; can I spend some time with them…. without you?
Zoning off a means of staying in control, take me home and treat me as a person