Flock.

Let’s be like herded sheep, shall we?

and stand in line for centuries,

like in mind to the dullest ancestries,

let’s evolve without changing anything…

now, we all line up without questioning,

spend money on shit that has no meaning,

nothing to show have we “sentient beings”,

besides the bombs we can blow atomically…

we watch the World News from home on TV,

bump our gums about what we’d do differently,

but at the end of the day, that logic is shifty,

coming from a cesspool of such inactivity…

Let’s line up overnight to see a premièring movie,

then trample each other with the doors’ opening,

we each do what we like without ever considering,

how the rest of the sheep want other sheep things…

and sadly things will only become more trifling,

because sheep are too stupid to know anything,

unable to think on one’s stand-alone feet,

we are all doomed ‘til we stop acting like sheep.

Wasted Energies.

You've done this thing,
like attaching a string,
from my mind to your heart,
from my mouth to your brain;

You've created this thing,
like a hornet's sting,
from my inner-most thought,
comes a painful tingling;

You've become something,
not quite a human being,
from my unhealed parts,
the blood is running again;

You've turned out to sing,
the song of an old enemy,
from the deepest of want,
for the very same things;

You've proven to swing,
back and forth, in between,
from the history you haunt,
o the throne of a King.




Blanket of Grey.

When you begin to hate someone who previously carried positive weight in your life, the world temporarily turns grey.
Things start to feel skewed and look grotesque.
Nothings seems to make you smile or laugh as before, nothing seems funny.
The world has changed inside of you, is changing inside of you.
You have no control over the darkening or lightening of the shades that the grey blankets over and around your life. You just have to snuggle in this blanket.
You just have to keep yourself enveloped at any cost.
There is nothing else for it.

Downshift.

We had drawn up this road map so grand,

the highlighted route to the ending we planned,

the flutter of cards as they dropped out of hand,

the calling of Gods in dreams we understand;

poor odds follow close, wherever I am,

fleeting as granules of time-whitened sand

fickle and pickled in the spices at hand,

between promise and oneness,

that same ol’ ominous numbness,

parlor tricks performed in a deserted land;

peopled with embodied nothingness,

void of all the sugary fluffiness,

where you are is ever where I am,

when I’m asleep that’s how it stands,

I dig in the deep with my polished hands,

driven mad by a fiendish hologram;

dropped from the attached strings,

to your heart’s working guillotine,

you never came back for me,

left me miserably, deservedly

just as I am.

He Versus I.

Had I not already been neck-deep in the execution of self-sabotaging the thing between me and a particular (possibly) impossible person whom I have been trying to let “court” me, when he opted to get pissed off at me (for the very first time) and wrap yesterday up by dumping me, another Valentine’s Day might have become memorable for all the wrong reasons.

Luckily (and I say luckily with a heavy and exaggerated roll of my eyes), I was well into that familiar, contradictory and counter-productive pattern of “seek-build-destroy” when it all happened – so I wasn’t too heartbroken.

I expect such things anyway, Hell, I create them. I tried to tell this one from the start, too – how we seemed to represent like, Polar Opposites at the end of the day. We have very little in common besides work (yes, we work together) and physical attraction. He literally left me with my mouth hanging open when he asked me to go out with him because I had previously imagined him as a total yuppie that travels for fun (he’s very worldly) with season tickets to the Warriors or whatever. Like many men from “the clean side of the tracks”, he was intrigued by my roughened edges, I suppose.  When I told him that I thought we had nothing in common with each other, he said something like,

“Just let me surprise you on that score.”

A surprise that I am still waiting for…

 

He:

is too normal (he reads the newspaper and drives an SUV)…too well-maintained by scheduled workouts and personal tailors…too condescending without meaning to be…too hopeful and focused on The Big Picture.

I:

am so fucked up in the head that I can’t get close to anyone (the more I want to, the harder it gets to actually let happen)…too unbalanced and paranoid by a lack of human interaction…too defensive without meaning to be…too traumatized to exist outside of One Moment At A Time.

Snap.

There’s no pattern to the trend
That teeter totters without end
No method to a madness that mends,
The sadness between every exhalation,
I pull, you push.
You’re slow, I rush.
There’s nothing happy in the end
To go and slap me in my face again
No loss of sleep, no skipping heartbeat to maintain,
No giggling, no tickling the inkling in my brain,
I give, you take.
You bend, I break.

So What Do You Do?

What do you do when the knowledge finally seeps through?

Can you enjoy your freedom with the enslaved watching you?

What do you do when you have too many mountains to move?

Will you dirty your own hands trying to dig up the truth?

Can you worry about only the things that you pick and choose?

The trivial nuisance of something like gum on your shoe,

the convivial looseness of someone who means nothing to you;

What do you do when the call has rung loudly through?

Can you hurry out and scream about things you must do?

Will you fizzle out and fade away like so many before you?

What do I do when it’s time to reach out and grab onto,

The material rips, my fingers stick with pin pricks of VooDoo,

the unusual fits that linger and stick in the thick of the shit you do.