.i think,

  the ergo:

i'll never battle my alcoholism,
why?
   people enjoy their roller-coasters,
don't they?
same ****, different, cover...
i love the spiral...
and if you play me some
alice in chains...
akin to the song would?,
or man in the box?
          you just covered
the no man's land...
      pity is cheaper than words,
actually...
         i hate pity...
    i'm of the sentimentality
confined to:
  you do your ****,
i'll do mine...
    but god forbid i lax my
attunement to the rigoristic
attachment to,
either spelling, or grammar...
   i'm here for the free-fall...
the sort of free-fall
readied with the imagery
of Satan diving into the vacuum
of the vacuum of the universe,
with the ferocity of
an asteroid... generating
gravity and vector...
listening to the onslaught
of slayer's -
   raining blood;
or muse's song bliss...
let's just say...
   i'm here for the tartar stake...
roughly cut up...
rather than minced
baby food meat.

                            i am...

    you don't come between
a rhino's target,
and the coordinated,
posit for the origins of the charge...
i'd hate to use the incisor teeth...
i'd rather prefer at the maulers...
even though...
   it's like using a blunt knife...
you use the maulers to crush bone
to get the marrow...
      i've reverse...

             because what is speech
akin to this, sort of extravaganza?
the simpler excuse for the excuse
to not act...

                 i don't feel i need to act...
i much prefer waiting,
to acting, "hard"...
            i love the virtue some discredit...
on the simple ground
of a patient bidding a stalling...
i like it...
            let's face it though...
poetic terms overpower
the latter half of the Cartesian equation,
sum is over-laden with
metaphors...
      and cogito with
a blind-sighted focus
without a chance of a labyrinth...

the ergo-mismatch...
can't see a Minotaur even if i wanted
to...
         and i don't sometimes
feel inclined,
to charge at anything,
that's not standing before me,
in a mirror;
and is, esp. not me.

in a harsh rhapsodic voice -
i, will, not, REPENT!
to justify your pseudo-moralism!
drink your coffee!
and? ******* into your
quasi-amphetamine doctrine
of the faking of originality!
this, social-commentary...
like, half of these people never
cared about your health...
so, naturally... they don't make
much of the care behind it...
my rehab?
     visiting my grandparents,
the homogeneity of
a small Polish town...
   no cold turkey moment...
fixing up my grandparent's kitchen...
laying down new linoleum flooring,
refreshing the walls...
if you were never born
in a monochromatic,
monosyllable culture?
   you'll never know the counter-drug
akin to alcohol...
   experiencing it...
  
i'm sure, that you should ask an
alcoholic Jew...
   what cured him or her...
once they returned from a visit to
Israel...
           equivalent of
Mecca... but Mecca is not a place,
nor an idea... it's a people!