Friday, March 31, 2017

tax return dreamin while my new coworker talks about how he used to deliver tampons, condoms, soda, and plan b

i don't want love.
i don't want a brain.
i don't want a job.
i don't want bodily fluids.

i talk too much about blood and death.
and when the world is spinning
nothing makes sense.

jumping fences with
the ghosts of my friends.
vomiting in storm drains
with a desire to rent
mortal kombat the movie,
and beetle bug racing
for the n64 from the video store
and order a pizza on a friday night.

now: life is too complicated.
now: i just feel bored.

Friday, March 24, 2017

3/24/17

life is war, and when you're born you join the army of humanity. of exisiting.
and most of my comrades i grew up with and trained together didn't die by bullets from machine guns, bombs, dropped by planes, or artillery shells.

no.

most of my comrades died because they became focused on the busy tedium of existing and focusing on their lives, and in the process forgot about me, and i them.

we are no longer comrades, but strangers who stopped caring for each other, and couldn't even recognize one another if we happened to pass by each other randomly on the street.


but at certain moments, i remember them. i remember the times we shared, and memories we created that had an impression on me like two hands squeezing a lump of clay. i remember the foxholes we shared together in meaningless battles against rival factions, and authoritarian dictators who had us under their control. i remember, and in these moments i mourn. but there are no graves or memorials to lay flowers, or a trinket that held a special meaning between us on the concrete or marble facade. to shed a tear and reminisce getting lost in our shared nostalgia.

no. there are no physical reminders of the times we shared except for maybe a photograph or home movie of us together that maybe one of our parents saved.

no there is nothing for me but these moments, and they will come back spontaneously  into my life at certain times, in certain places, in certain thoughts, but for now this moment will soon come to an end, and i'll move on.

Thursday, March 23, 2017

the only chance i have of saving my life is if the irs or whatever government agency deals with tax returns deposits mine in my bank account by saturday

wash your hands.
you're fucking filthy.
tangling yourself by spinning
a web of doing the same activities
every day.

you don't speak any more because
your mouth has become a gaping wound
that hasn't been tended too for too long,
so it's sutured closed and silent
to stop the spread of infection.

and there isn't much left to do
except wait for the
inevitable to come.
that bus is on it's way.

you dream of burning houses and robbing banks.
but you don't and never will.

surviving when your
life is in pieces
trying to put it back together
with glue and a keen eye,
but you always been terrible at puzzles.

and today you'll be told something,
which tomorrow you'll forget to do.

you don't know if you'd rather travel back
to the past or forward to the future
but right now anything is better than the present:
waking up to an oversize man talking about
how the government is poisoning the water supply
with all different types of shit and it's safer
to be drinking from puddles,
how rocky balboa was actually gay,
and how a cup kentucky fried chicken's gravy
is actually healthier than a bottle of that kombucha juice shit.
to which you say, "what?"
as you try to figure out something that will resemble
a relative response
until you realize
you are in your car
all alone.
it's 10am.
you can't feel your toes
anymore
cause of the cold.
so you have to turn the heat on,
which will cut into your
gas,
money,
and
future drug supply.

you close your eyes
while smoking a cigarette
before trying to fall back asleep,
get up,
get money,
meet your dealer,
get well,
go to work,
wash your hands.
repeat.

you've already accepted you've lost your mind.

Monday, March 20, 2017

fuck advertising. fuck selling yourself, fuck making earnings off your blog or what you create through advertising. fuck all that bullshit.

if you choose to do it i don't hate you, because we all have to survive and make a living.

i'm just saying fuck the people, society, company, government, or system that made it this way.

Thursday, March 16, 2017

to all the lovers that will never love me and friends who stopped talking to me.





maybe it was just bad timing
or you were 
there
and 
i was
here.
i don't have much to offer
except some pennies i picked off the ground
jangling around in my pocket
along with a lighter,
a pack of smokes,
some scraps of papers,
old faded receipts for 99 cent cans of iced tea,
pepper spray,
car keys,
and a pocket knife.

i suture my mouth shut whenever
i had an important heartfelt message
or statement to say.

and you can't save me
when i can't save myself
or even know who the fuck i am
so how will we ever get to know each other?
how will we become friends?
go on adventures?
reminiscence about unforgettable days or nights spent together? 
or fall in love?
have sex?
make plans for the future?
make it through a job interview without having a full blown panic attack?
get a well paying job?
buy a house?
have a family?
reunite with people from the past at back yard barbecues,
talking about the days gone by as our kids do cannonballs
off the diving board into our in-ground pool, or have pretend wars on rafts
with water balloons and squirt guns, before drying them off, putting them to bed,
and talking about our current lives over beers in the flickering lights of citronella candles?
growing old together?
going to each other's funerals shedding tears while giving eulogies?
finally dying in peace life fulfilled?

i'm sorry.
i have problems,
and the answer is we won't.
i won't.
i am just a burden to the people i care about,
and the people that care about me.

it's only a matter of time before i go past the edge of your event horizon.
it's only a matter of time before i become a hole in your memory
and disappear forever without a trace.

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

i'll never get better after all, and i guess that's just part of life.

skin thin slices.
peel with a pairing knife
bought off an infomercial
discard into a compost heap.
and watch it grow nothing.
where is the epicenter?
the inner knowledge?
what makes it function?
what causes it to move?
what causes it to live?
what makes it want to live?
why live?
questions
that have answers,
which turn into more
questions.
after falling on snow that turned
to ice looking up
at the starless sky
with a pizza
and two chocolate lava cakes
strewn around you,
you realize you are just a manipulation,
and as much as you don't want to be,
this world
is real
and
it does exist,
and
yes you are a part of it.
and
criticisms always seem
more important than compliments.
but i have to stop here.
i need to get a fast food hoagie
and got work in less than a half an hour.
i got a free gift card and haven't eaten
an actual meal in 4 days.