A Walk in Mismatched Shoes--who just snickered?

A collection of unfinished works by Cory Wyszynski

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Prison ships and butterflies         6/4/15 [Even if it is the 5th]

Watch the crosswalk cross on by. My oh my. Let it all cave in. Get your tickets for the show. It only strikes midnight once your far away from home. So nearly alone. Forget the dial tone, say your message loud and clear to the friend on the other end who is no longer there. Their voice is nice to hear. Forget what they said in school, you're doing what makes you feel cool. Deep down inside. Deep inside; way down.   The butterfly flaps its wings, pretty colors shimmering. Prisoners all pray for their view to be a little more open. Inviting not the sorrow, but all the times before they took a step to the devil's den.   My oh my, my my. Such a lonely night. Why oh why, we sleep with the light, in the clothes I wore from the night before. Fly on by, with the breeze. Take your step with filth and sleaze. Prison ships and Butterflies. Condemned and scared, locked away. Seismic colors in disarray. My, oh why. Watch them fly. Into the dark and into the light.  

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I swear you were on me when I woke up this morning. The sound of our bodies pounding against eachother like an erotic drum. Me below and you on top. I  woke up and my legs were spasing. Now that is a morning image honey. ☆ Not as sexy when you find out the hero of our story is whispering this to a trash can; still hung over from Stanley's 30th stag party.

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4 4 4. Gee, it is 4:44. Not the afternoon kind. There will be so much done today. There is. Really, there is tons. Tons for you to do. Think about all the little things you could do. Well first comes to mind is reading, catching up on a song of ice and fire perhaps? Maybe reading a daily, often not so daily meditation. Days of June and August are left to their own delimas. So, what are....oh really?! That is what, you are going to- WOAH, WOAH! Let me at least shut the door. There! Go right ahead. Masturbate away! What about the next great sonnet, huh? Oh, you can no longer hear me.

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CAPTURED on a laptop in Fry's. This is how and where it may all reduce down to where there is nothing left. The rubble is new and fresh. The scream of the bodies from the recent months still echo along the rebar and the concrete of the loadbearing walls. Tim, Susan, Oscar, and Fred are some of the ones that were fortunate when the ground broke under the Earth's rage. Mortor and Ash. That were the usual aromas one would find in Chasdin Square, the New Financial District.

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Big dewey hats (A state of the World)

Random nonsense is what makes in this world because it embraces the honeysuckle dew plants that cry in protest when people say "that hat is to big for me". And for the asses that go bounce bounce bounce even in a congressional hearing.

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A concious gut stream of feels

Black + Red has in it some bread. Greg and Jeff also know Jared (addendum: period not needed) Funny with money the tired are not. Words smell of slimey decay; my onion sandwich piled high with extra mayo. Uggh. The fridge is dirty. Would there be more today, not right now. I do not want to ruin- shiiiiiiiiiit

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#This

Hashtag this, A punch to let someone, trusted To enter my hunger or my acrid lonliness. Pound pound pound. Look towards it. Why won't you see it. I am right there, blocked by a packing slip. Upset People Scream. Understand, Please Someone. Should I let you help me, find me, laugh with me, entice me, feed me, love me, hurt me, rob me. You are more than welcome to if I allow it, But if you ask black&blue or gold&white . I hope you enjoyed looking at my name. Hashtag...dial tone

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From June 27th, 2012

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Thoughts turned gray

The sky looks heavy. Burdened. The smell of Pledge; its polyphenols zooming through the air. A table looks better: the butcher, refurbished. A wise man. Creating since he came to sunnier skies. Rain will come tomorrow by a 60% chance. The sky hangs low. Gray and tired, like the boy turned man turned sad, on the couch, in the room. That room: With the Pledge and table and ideas. Thoughts turned gray. The sun shine is there; Oh heavenly...well, it was a nice reprieve. Tomorrow. 60% 60%

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"My cup stays full with the honey from our great country. The tea is hot. It promotes family, all sitting around at a table after a long nights work. My son H.W. prefers Chamomile. I am more old fashioned. I will stick with straight black, like my oil."

- Daniel Planview, if he was in fact a factual person

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From June 3rd, 2012

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Ketchup on Lettuce

Being off your game? A phrase we shun to hear. I currently am. Me, the guy writing this. (Waves hand)

An unhealthy obsession? An idea that I look fault on others for. Negative talk and complaining upsets me. Me, the guy still writing this.

Alright! I am plunking out these letters on my phone: Samsung Galaxy S5. I do not mind technical though, so I shall simmer down.

Obsession and Games. Is this the title? Perhaps, may seem odd, but you do not know the full story. Done.

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From February 14th, 2012

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May I ask Why?

Long tones only make things easier...if you are a musician. I doubt in strong protest that this would work for the drive thru attendant at one of the local Taco Bells. Manager Andy, we unfortunately need to let you go. ANDY May I ask why? MANAGER Several customers have started to boycott our local establishment. ANDY And, why is that? MANAGER Problems with their hearing. A lot are now tone deaf. -Long tones work for musicians. Remember that-

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From May 29th, 2012

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From May 31st, 2012

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From August 5th, 2012