January 12, 2013

        It's a foggy day to be walking along the avenue, alone. But there he strolls, alone. Not alone-alone, more existentially so. Everybody is nobody. His friends aren't friends. His shoes no longer squeak when he walks. He isn't one to wallow. The village weeps for his sorrows and pays forthright in blood. It trickles down the street unnoticed. Nobody looks but everybody knows its there. Nobody asks but everybody knows who put it there. Why don't they ask? Perhaps they feel guilty. Guilty, because they took it all away. Took it all away from him. They were hungry, so at one time they hoisted him up, created a gash, and lapped his spirit all up like thirsting dogs. They couldn't sleep, so they locked him in a cage and made him sing, serenading into the night. When they couldn't g   see, they set him alight, and when they couldn't breathe they took his breathe right away. And now, they don't need him. But he is in wanting. It's going to happen again, it'll happen tonight. He'll take another and another to make himself feel alright. He checks the time on his watch but he can't see anything because time has stopped existing. The Sun will never come up again because it too has stopped existing. Without the light of the Sun, he can't be sure the moon is even still there. It's gotten quite cold but he feels quite warm. Tonight's the night, and it's not ever going to end.

So What

Don't tell me. 

So what. 

Who are you, even?

Polluting my narrative,

When all I want is to love,

All I want is to love. 

You tell me,

No. 

"Couch"

I am not a couch.
I don't like the be sat upon.
I don't like to be critique for my appearance, or the quality of my upholstery.
I don't like people to fuck over me.
I don't like to be moved because you don't like where I am.
I don't like being spilled on.
I don't like being jumped on.
I don't like being humped upon.
I don't like being told that I hurt your back.
Kiss him somewhere else.
Eat at the table.
Screw in the bedroom.
Please. Turn that TV off. I don't like this show.

"Drowning"

I wake up, drowning.
The immensity of the weight around my ankles grow.
I'm shown clips, quick wisps,
peering through venetian blind.

The phone rings unmercifully,
I answer it.

a million honking cars,

a million crying babies,

a million growling tummies,

a million empty closets,

a million unsatisfied lovers,

a million unfinished jobs,

a million empty promises.

A million dreams left unrealized.

Sharp. Stabbing. Pains are felt in my side.

I'm being constructed by a million crooked paths.

I'm bleeding out and my mind grows weak.

Vision fades to black.

I see the real world!

Alien

And someday...
we will be in cages,
in immense shiny labs,
with chrome coats and a sterile smell.

And they will cut into us,
to see how we bleed,
to hear how we scream,
to feel how we cry.

And they will wonder,
how we ever made it through a century without them.

"Reality (Pretension)"

I've seen not the degeneration, no, but I've seen the reality of this generation.

The girls I like are lied too, thrown away. Like one man's trash to be another man's treasure.

I've seen the boys I like be eaten up by cyber space, never knowing who they are, save by the counter of 'likes'.

The machines are seizing the day, while the people become adjusted to the ways of docile sheep;
bleep bleep baaa baa

Marital entitlement, the fools call this love, has been stripped naked and exposed. It was meant to control but, now, women are liberated.

Who needs who when you're an arsenal of big black rubber cocks, porn, and playmates.

Who needs you when you've only got to send a text.

No, don't call. I don't wan't to talk. I spoke to you yesterday, there's nothing left to say!

Our heroes flash dicks and pull tricks on the "bright" near future.

The children are beaten upon the head until they stop thinking, stop dreaming.

We the prisoners in the camp of political correctness, don't let the guards catch you smoking!

We who sign petitions from behind a screen. Feel important, share with friends.

We who say fuck voting to those who say "rock the vote".

We who say rock the vote to those who say fuck voting.

The dogs who are shot for acting naturally. The dogs who are fixed from acting naturally.

To the anti-humanists who would rather hug a tree than a baby.

To those who'd rather save a fetus than feed a starving child.

To the baby who'd grow up to save the world.

To the baby who'd grow up to destroy it.

To all who die.

To lost potential.

We are human.

"A Moment to Reverse"

Funny how, in a moment's time,
                     I change.
                     I revert.
                     I reverse.
How what I wanted back,
                                         seems to me,
more trouble,
                      dare I say,
                                       then it is even worth...
Lo! but perhaps there goes I,
again,
trying to....
                  not be so....
                                      me.
In a moment I reverse from my adamant indignation
to the posture of a docile sheep.

Fuck it- I don't know.
Take control- damnit.
Don't be so...subjected.
Believe? In what?
In me? Perhaps.
In us? Unsure.

If the dragon would just put away his flaming tongue!
I might just be able to feel secure in the cage I was born into.

In a moment, I will question,
and be left in question,
and I'll look toward my heart, it will tell me so.
My mind, will duly confess, it just doesn't know.
Torn now I will be left to wonder.
Wondering, I will be left to dream.
Dreaming, I will be left to wake.
Awake.
Disenchanted.

9/11/12