Starvation

when you can never get enough food to eat bc of your metabolism & the horrors of capitalism 

when you can never hear enough compliments bc your low self esteem keeps tossing them aside

when each day feels the same as the last bc of the same old shiz 

when you’re ready to quit climbing the mountain you’re on & just fall into the sea 

that’s when you compose a post

just to see

how many others are just as hungry 

as me

just to see

how many others aren’t free

Sleep, We’ve Been Over This Before…

a neverending nightmare
like a toxic case of a deep down ugly spell
whittling away at my health points in a role playing game

sleep is, once again, becoming less a temporary break from the ridiculous nature of our collective consciousness that we are forced to participate in & becoming more of a continuation of the same, that I have no control over

sleep
oh, how my dreams mock me
broadcasting my failures & teasing me with optimistic subliminal images of what could, should, happen in the future
a remote in my hand that doesn’t work
involuntarily watching what ever happens to be on

like a bird in flight snapping its neck against a squeaky clean window
it’s getting harder to know if I’m going the right way

sleep
please just let me rest
that’s all I have to say

Neutrality

middle of the road
not particularly memorable
& not all that interesting either

Oh, that’s familiar.

minor background character in everyone else’s lives

try chewing the scenery! improvise! go off the script!

the secret’s out. there’s no script.

the main conflict in the main story line in at least several different stories at a time

Best make your own script
‘less you want to get stuck in someone else’s shit

shit-dick from butt-bumping the ground, Le Grind
a place you ain’t meant to fit

purple holly, so legit
you’ve got my mind so whipped
that my hips just dip
& grip
and whip up a fury in the sea

category 5

get right to the point
right when the moment is the most crucial

I just fade to grey…

Baby
I guess I’m just neutral.

via Daily Prompt: Tender

NewPower

Pardon me for breathing, am I suffocating you?
Pardon me for living, am I constantly in your way?
Pardon me for frolicking, do you ever get to play?
Pardon me for being, what kind of voodoo do you do?

Primal deep down rumblings
rolling like thunder
a volcano’s peak crackling seconds before eruption
head dizzy from concussions
blows from metal batons held in the hands by The Unsaveables
rain down upon my cranium and grab my unmentionables
wanting, demanding, my submission

Oh Fuck.

This is no longer just minor superstitions
conspiracy truths veiled without our permission
killing us, our blood fueling the system
opposite of what of what we’ve been told, its quite the juxtaposition
with armored pigs trained to kill on commission
while the rest generate plans for a mental prohibition
Idiocracy overnight, controlled by a mad magician

Oh no, Sir.

Not while I still have my cognition.

I’m On A Mission.

Don’t Say I Didn’t Warn Ya

Letitgo In Sweet Sorrow [Soon]

Soon

a black star imploding on the 7th alley ’round the upside down
veiling the path towards the nexus of all creation behind a canvas scribbled in haste with heavy charcoal
an all black affair, as a matter of fact

down the dusty halls, down trails of a catacomb of the supersweet unknown to rectify a situation blown into a Big Bang

Soon

a proverbial cry on behalf of all humanity, those of whom have any humanity left under the surface of the still & deceptively deep blues

down the drain at the bottom of the sea and spat out the other side, where few things seem familiar & what is familiar is subject to intense scrutiny, warranted or not

Soon 

a word with a myriad of connotations leading to too many conclusions 

down with it all
you, me, we, & the rest
allowing the deep unwind to manifest
gravity of a neutron star crushing down those on stand by
from this day forth

for The Dawn

Soon

Banshee Screams from the Pacific Coast

What is this desire to unsucceed spectacularly in every way, burbling in the underbelly of my being like a cooking teapot, scorching hot to the touch & an ear-splitting high pitched whistle?

The way it reels my soul in, leaving me gasping & flopping about like a common guppy….something in the air does not compute…

And what’s so strange, so scary, is that this sensation is a haunting from a specter causing an unsettling disturbance in the force from a source of which time has no bearing. The ghost of past, present, & future together in a cataclysmic bang of the forever beforeandafter

…temporal curses…

Ain’t that a bitch?

Less a question of ability, moreso a question of fortitude. A quiet quandary of epic proportions. Raging like the Great Red Stain of Jupiter.

something in the air does not compute…
there is no air

& I’ll suffocate under the weight of a thousand unanswered questions before I have time to wake up