Stolen Smiles.

I bet you think,
that you got me,
you think,
some rinky-dink,
cheap hoodwink,
can shock me?
You need to,
see a shrink,
exclusively,
immediately,
can you say,
“shock therapy”?
You like to think,
your shit don’t stink,
stupidly,
not shocking,
You think you’re,
the only geek,
with a nod and wink,
who’s rocking?
You think like,
a cracked-out tweak,
on a shopping spree,
heart stopping,
shit talking,
You think a,
decryption key,
means shit to me?
unlocking,
You think it,
doesn’t wreak,
of thievery,
such mockery,
call blocking,
You think you’re,
the only freak,
the only skumbag thief,
who’s stalked me?
You think,
the doublespeak,
the hyperlinks,
the subtleties,
cock-blocking,
You think me,
mild and meek,
words I speak,
empty miscellany,
just squawking,
You think you,
can hinder me,
in my stepping,
or render me,
unsuspecting,
of your indecency,
insolently,
emptily,
keep thinking,
keep trying,
quit weaseling,
quit lying,
You’re unforgiven,
how unforeseen,
was the dying,
of a beloved king,
the defying of,
defaming of,
decomposing of,
love’s creamy dreams,
reinforcing of,
sharpened,
hardened,
darkened things,
broken wings,
Screams curdling,
frozen hearted,
cement-shoed,
bound to settle in,
down you go again,
unthinkably,
unspeakably,
Reactively,
you’re scaly,
snakeskinny,
filthy to your DNA,
How ya like me now?
Please sink and drown,
Or swim away,
into yesterday,
on your back belly up,
Contentedly,
Complacently,
Away from me,
I’ll steal
what’s left of,
your smile,
while you cry,
like a child in your sleep.





Stay Up On Your Feet.

People say things easily.
Mostly, being insincere.
They strive to weasel into your life and prove something to themselves.
Something rotten and reminiscent of toxic spores. They aim to break the strength they see in you, to make the beautiful into the hideous.
They want to see you cry and beg.
They aim to show you new lows.
They aim to make you alone.
They aim to silently poison your table of knights one by one.
They feign love.
They indignify truth through their very existences.
These people want to be a victim, always; unable to endure what doesn’t fit into a pre-self-determined reality that’s far from being real.
People like this can’t (won’t/don’t) help themselves from being the epitome of protervity and narcissism.
It’s often quite easy to glimpse the actual pig’s (from the state of perpetual pig-headedness of such people) features at times, if you concentrate long enough on their’ faces.
These people are truly hopeless, and entangling yourself with one of them will inarguably take years off of your life.
People need to sleep at night (well, most people, at least) and throughout their’ lives, have honed the art of achieving said sleep by any and all means necessary.
It doesn’t matter who they have to steal from, lie to or cheat on.
Most people are either like puppets or puppeteers.
They can be dragged around by a string and made to do another’s bidding – to be the butt of another’s constant stream of jokes and gags and be kept in a box out of sight, some asshole’s means of venting his subliminal machinations; or they can be the one dragging the strings and throwing their’ voices, the people harboring silently forlorn grudges against all of humanity.
People who feel it necessary to repeatedly outline the purity and righteousness of the lives they lead might as well wear a t-shirt that reads:
“Hey. I’m a fucking Fatmouth. Don’t believe a word I tell you about myself. I’m worth more dead.”
These are the same people who know – deep down – that not a decent individual in the world holds any sentiment in his/her direction, not even mom or dad, usually. Grandma even disowned these people, even, in her own heart.
These are the people who vampire your cha-cha and exhaust you in totality.
Don’t let this brand of evil wash out your colors and make you feel like a faded version of yourself.
These are the people you exchange faked smiles with anytime you meet eachother.
Try to keep those meetings at a minimum.

Paradoxy.

The biggest dilemma surrounding me,
is that which defines my own failed dealings,
throughout my life, it’s become a disease,
to be broken, in comparison to everybody;
and in turn, this difference that stands between,
always burns to ashes, any chances I might see,
wholesome and unbroken folks want no part of me,
rendering it impossible to know such human beings;
many times I’ve tried to put myself into a “normal” scene,
only to effectively emphasize such vast contrast in between,
I’m tired of sharing “friendships” with liars, cheats and feigns,
but I don’t want to mix my bullshit with the next guy’s purity;
it’s a problem I’ve lived with throughout my entire memory,
to hate to love the people who fear abandonment, same as me,
but, to also despise the feeling of trying to fit into “normalcy”,
it’s the paradox of searching for a place to simply “be”.

Paradoxy.

The biggest dilemma surrounding me
is that which defines my own failed dealings
throughout my life, it’s become a disease
to be broken, in comparison to anybody
and in turn, this difference that stands between
always burns to ashes, any chances I might see
wholesome and unbroken folks want no part of me
rendering it impossible to know such human beings
many times I’ve tried to put myself into a “normal” scene
only to effectively emphasize such vast contrast in between
I’m tired of sharing “friendships” with liars, cheats and feigns
but I don’t want to mix my bullshit with the next guy’s purity
it’s a problem I’ve lived with throughout my entire memory
to hate to love the people who fear abandonment, same as me
but, to also despise the feeling of trying to fit into “normalcy”
it’s the paradox of searching for a place to simply “be”.

Death Song.

How will the final tune play itself through –
as it haunts the halls with melodious cacophony;
as it swirls like smoke from a smoldering flame;
as it tells the truths you’ve hidden from yourself;
it’s no wonder: when I look at the whole of it –
nothing profound or groundbreaking or bold;
nothing novel in the face of my weary stride;
nothing that offers any true shock or surprise
just more of the same of a really long line –
those two steps ahead of your own falter;
those who singed my flesh prior to your stab at it;
those who have been dismissed from view;
erased away from concern and thought of mine –
life is too short and there is no time;
shuffled card-decks and matching footsteps;
another falls neatly and indiscreetly into line;
What does your Death Song sound like –
full of many meaningless fabrications and layers;
reverberations, skipped beats and scratched vinyl;
all the dramatics without the shine of the stage lights.

Promises, Shmomises.

I have little doubt that the “anonymous email TApeworm” is reading this, or eventually will read this – may, in fact, be looking out for this specific post – as an affected result of the pitiful emphasis placed onto his/her own life (or total lack, thereof) through posting immature and pathetic trash-talk onto the blog of a friend who recently visited me in real-time;
I wasted even less of any time in narrowing down such a total online-junkie endeavor and its source – trust me – it’s far from difficult to trace a server log when you know the gateways that you are looking to cross reference…duh. In short: the time, personal interest and emotional investment that the Tapeworm put forth for such a grade-school attempt at smearing me, very personally and hate(r)fully – was NOT anonymous as the author had expected it would remain upon posting it publicly; and to be honest, the culprit’s identity does not surprise me one bit, given recent happenings and what not.
What was surprising to me was the absolute lack of any respectability or heart attached to such unnecessary dramatics, and the cowardly way in which such drama was presented for anyone to read – CLASSIC. Fucking classic like it’s all day long…anyway, this is a post to invite the Tapeworm to speak up as much to my face as possible, as opposed to slithering around behind my back and trying to be venomous towards me because I’m smiling and you aren’t. Making up lies and telling them because you are miserable and unhappy and you get the inkling that I might not be, also. HATER.
Please do feel free to say the same lies and gibberish that you vomited on the “sucker” whose relationship with me you look to sabotage – where did you even pull such lunch-line garbage from, anyway…? Let’s try it again only with some respectability and sound information this time, and from YOU to ME, since you seem to have so much info on my life and personal activities, stand up then. The projection involved is SO apparent with all that noise that I wonder if you were somehow going for the Obvious and Desperate look. Either way, nothing else to see here dude…move it along.
Fortunately for everyone involved or included in such Romper Room bullshit – I have zero tolerance or interest in HATERS and the associated behaviors and/or actions put forth on a hater’s behalf – so this saga will be short-lived no matter what.
Let me be clear and concise once again, as a reminder:
I do not blog to make friends…
I do not blog to gain approval…
I do not need nor desire fake friends online…
I will not be bullied or badgered by some unstable hater…
we all make our choices in life…
we all have to live with them, afterward…
grow up and get a new hobby.

Hard Timing It.

Somebody, somewhere down my block –
must’ve disagreed with the job I got
made a poor-sport’s jealous decision
to go ahead and drop the dimes in,
tried and convicted – let the drama begin…
about a quarter after two, I make my way through
the mainline, like old times – of the CHU;
Somewhere down the shackle line,
a mouth talked shit that wasn’t mine –
so now I have to back a play,
that I am oblivious to, anyway;
not my problem, not my game,
but I’ll take a rubber bullet –
either way, all the same;
never a dull moment
when you reside on Cell Block A,
never any time
for your peace of mind
to reflect on the wars you’ve waged;
because bitches equals drama
no matter the hour or the place,
especially without the makeup
that used to mask her ugly face.
Last weekend, Chow Hall got locked down
yes, once again
the inmates found a new way in;
and when Cook tried to cook,
the good shit had been stolen,
she refused to work until
the fucks in charge
secured the food in the kitchen –
and we all starved meanwhile,
though they called it a “hunger strike”
chalked me another six months on my time,
simply because my skin happens to be “white”.
And, reading in the nighttime, no sir;
my Bunkie has rank and she is a lifer,
and since she says the light bothers her –
it’s light out at sundown,
or it’s curtains for sure.
Too cold or too hot
not a lone, happy thought –
cup o noodles for
a potent coffee shot,
prison is Hell for a half-breed
no motto to recite out loud,
no glorious songs to sing,
no gang to bang
from the safety of a crowd –
no belonging
with anyone or to anything.
Read read read
and then read some more,
read til your brain can’t
comprehend anymore,
one day the sun will be on your face
as you leave this place
out those elusive front doors;
Goodbye young chain gang,
rotten apples of my teary eye,
I will not be back to see you
but maybe
I’ll catch you on the outside.

Clues and Hints

get itBody language gives so much away – that’s why everyone online is so clueless.

The words spelled out all over the screen have become so meaningless.

…’Cause they can’t see that I’m chewing my cheeks and doing the ADHD purse shuffle from near-spontaneous-combustion while they tell lies to me.

They don’t know how intelligent I am because I have a sailor’s mouth and I prefer not to be meek.

They each think that they have something better –  a leg up on me.

Two can keep a secret when one is headed downstream.

 

Understanding

kiss011

Life often throws curve-balls at me when it comes to the stupid choices I make in regard to ‘trust’ and ‘the wrong people’; and so the story goes.

The older I get, the more able I am to take responsibility for my own parts in the bullshit that goes down between myself and others – and the older I get, the less willing I become to even involve the others at all in my existence.

Being online with so many diverse personalities has helped me to learn a lot about the unwillingness I have cultivated over the years; and it has also been my experiences with people online that have helped reaffirm a longstanding sentiment I’ve held when it comes to the people around me:

  1. I do not have to love them.
  2. I do not have to understand them.
  3. I do not even have to give a shit about them.

But my not giving a shit about somebody in whom I foster no love or understanding for should not impede my own sense of morality and/or humanity as a result; and I should never allow it to.