“Another Misused Label”

A pitch black room where a lit phone is the star
It’s not a good kind of star
In fact… it’s EVIL
It’s a black hole of time and productivity and health
Time that should’ve been spent sleeping

That damn black hole…
It should’ve been like a real star
Where if you stare too long
You’ll hurt your eyes

Well actually that’s true but only after a while
But the more immediate effect is sometimes
Loss of IQ
I hope you don’t lose your IQ reading this
It’s possible you may suffer from this side effect
But I don’t think I’m so bad
There’s worse
Trust me…
There’s worse

Like sdgkg, dghuer, and werib
One-sentence reviews that hold a ton of weight
Than an eloquent and detailed essay
An unlimited todo list with limited characters
Nonsensical and shallow words
A random and irrelevant thought or opinion
Taken as a fact
The taking and giving of labels
Dangerous mislabels everywhere
Nobody reads labels anymore
Unless it resonates with them somehow
I am labelless
Don’t pin that sh*t on me
They already have
Possibly conjured by their own creativity
Where the scene at hand
Is on the other side of the world
People yelling over each other
Because they would rather be heard
Than be understood
Just misunderstood
Oh do help me turn away

I just can’t do it. I am addicted. I can’t… help…

This is a black hole of sleep.
This lone bright star in a pitch black room
It’s supposed to be the light that’s good

Another misused label

“So… Much…” (A Semi-Stream of Consciousness)

Structure
Need structure
Nobody will understand you
If thoughts and ideas
Are all over the place
You will never learn anything
If you’re taking in
Random
The human brain can only take
So… much…
Maybe in a thousand years
Everyone can be…

A writer or a rock star who knows irrelevant information like the birthdays and deathdays of every president who served the United States of America but it helps him with connections in his brain like knowing how to cook and clean and satisfy his wife which would make a decent country song but wouldn’t help him build a car from scratch or reverse engineer a vintage watch but may coddle his caring side and create programs that will help people with diabetes or obesity or a website that will be a front for a landlord who knows how to unclog a toilet stuffed with whatever it is that’s down there because there’s some engineers out there wink wink who don’t know how to use a plunger but perhaps all he needed was a teacher and a good father but other fathers could be worse but then again they might not be so bad after all because all they needed was structure and they actually do know a thing or two like threading a pipe and I guess it’s better to lead by example than be a bad example and leave your family and it’s probably something about his psychology that makes me sick or it’s just animalistic nature because human beings are animals anyway but the difference between us and them is we know how to use our brains purposefully and willingful and…

I’m trying to be so much
But the human brain can only take…
So… much…

Shut up
Structure
You need structure

Focus…

Maybe in a thousand years
Everyone can be everything

Or maybe…
Now

“Little Altar Boy” (Explicit)

A little altar boy grew up thinking he had words of wisdom.

It’s an act

Rip his guts out
See what he’s made of
“Don’t go that route and let the bad guy get away”
But he forgot what it’s like to be on the ground
He thinks he’s high and free
But one-on-one in a bout of fists
He won’t be able to…

I want to rip his heart out
I want to rip his heart out
Compare it before and after
Between a boy and what he thinks is a man

He’s no man.
He’s no man.
A man is…
That is not a man

I’m no man,
But I know what a man should be
He is not a man

To be so involved with yourself
Ego…
That’s old. Primitive…
Pride, looks, vanity, fakery, one to the next, to the next and next next next, the suits, and the eyebrows…
Thinking you’re hot sh*t.
Thinking you’re something.
A big deal.
He makes them for a living.
Thinking you can take and smooth talk and get away

Little altar boy somewhere inside wanted all this fame and the women

[redacted]

Wanted so much to afford paint that couldn’t be f*cked with.
I tried.
The knife… slid off… it slid off his pride.
F*ck his pride.
Little altar boy

Hypocritical altar boy who judges instead of leaving it to his master.
But his real master is ego and pride and his eyebrows

God I want to rip them out…

A humble kid never existed
It was a look, a phase, an act
Like now.
An act to exchange…
It’s All an act.
He acts like a man…
But he’s no man…
Trust me…

I know what a real man is.

“Better Hurry Now”

It was a fleeting moment but now it’s back
The desire to say something that’s impossible
Where time spent thinking of how to say it
Stayed for a longer time than expected

Better hurry now and it…

A debris field
A river of trash
Useless and useful things
All bottlenecking until
It chokes you
Nothing but silence
A blank stare
That makes you look stupid
Makes you look useless
Makes you look as if you have nothing
Meaningful… purposeful… exciting… to say
When the whole problem all along
Was that constriction
At the exact pressure point
That tip-of-the-tongue moment
That actually extends into the soul
Where so much has to be said
But you don’t know where to start
Because there’s nowhere to begin

And if you keep waiting
On the false pretense
That it’ll come out right
All that trash will bottleneck
Into a great dam
Where nothing
But chance words
Come through

This is all but an example
Of those such few words

So much more I have to say
Even if no one is listening

They don’t have to though
I have listened enough and realized
That many need to have that dam
To hold them back
And keep them in check
And shut them up
And humble them
Because they are after all
Irrelevant
Despite their need
For unearned attention
And I probably already had my chance
And blew it

And why is it?
That the right words come out for them
And the wrong words for me?

It’s too late to answer and to realize

Because the moment has passed

What I wanted to say
No longer wants to be said
But better then
Than never

“Prick”

That prick is on to me
And he has a scheme
I don’t know how
I just know

That gut feeling…
I remember a past life
That full moon
It was an entire life

I still have flaws
But I moved on
I left him behind
‘Cause I would’ve *died

I never thought
I was important enough
To be chased by
What I once loved

He doesn’t love me back
And it’s only a matter of time
Before I hit back
And make this prick cry

“Inanimation”

The truth is so painfully obvious
But we don’t want to believe the truth
We just live in the moment and moments
But where were the moments before the first?
And where will they go after the last?
It’s a movie we won’t ever see complete
A tree and a flower we didn’t see born
A once living carcass we didn’t see let go
What happened before, after, and in between?
It is as an individual we all know
But as a collection of only things
Things that came to be from inanimation
Only few within would painfully know

“It’s Not Too Late”

My body is beginning to betray me… But it’s not too late.
My eyes have seen a lot of blurring… But it’s not too late.
My skin is running out of room for scars… But it’s not too late.
My hands don’t hold like they used to… But it’s not too late.
My teeth are growing irreversible holes… But it’s not too late.
My cracked bones from a previous life are saying hi… But it’s not too late.
My lungs have breathed in toxic dust and smoke… But it’s not too late.
My liver now aches with all the drinking… But it’s not too late.
My colon now tells me it can’t stand all the eating… But it’s not too late.
My bum has experienced some rough passing… But it’s not too late.
My heart feels too heavy to keep on beating… But it’s not too late.
My mind has been going to waste… But it’s not too late.
My stupidity has gotten me into trouble… But it’s not too late.
My life has mostly felt like dying… But it’s not too late.
My hope may be giving up to despair… But it’s not too late.

My time has been wasted on worrying… It’s too late.

Then I die

“One Fruit Fly Means Many Fruit Flies”

La da dee.
It’s time to clean.

La da dee.
I’m cleaning.

La da dee.
I’m in the kitchen
taking out the garbage.

A glance:

An edible-looking kiwi.
Why did I throw it away?
Its shell is intact
but if you press it,
you can feel
the mushy insides.
Imagine squeezing it.

A banana peel lays there,
its insides taken a while ago,
most likely by me, the culprit,
with black blots as if it were
a rotting corpse.

Ground coffee sprinkles
the top of the heap,
fallen this morning,
like snow on a mountain.

Somewhere else in the world,
you can look at the same thing
and zoom out to find
acres of a landfill.

La da dee.
I’m cleaning.

!
A fruit fly
hovers around.

I nearly dropped the garbage onto the floor
for a chance to clap my hands together
and flatten the pest in between.

I thought about the virus
going around in the world.
One sick person means
many sick persons.

Spring started two days ago.
One fruit fly means
many fruit flies.

Here to the hope that cleaning
will put a stop to the fruit flies.

La da dee.
Clean.