Your pre-frontal cortex is delectably oral amidst this maze of psychological violence.
Oh, mistress of certain uncertainty, I cannot articulate the essence of ontology, as human language is inadequate. But, you truly capture the flow of irregularity in this mass mockery of societal fabric.
Therefore, I simply appeal to our mutual and primitive impulses. Let us be rough, despite the misguided assumptions of those who claim to have affiliation.
I like old school choppers, because they are not polished.
I wish I missed people.
I feel like by never missing anyone
I demean the relationships I have.
I just can't help it.
Sometimes I wish someone in particular was with me
But those feelings are always short
By never needing anyone
When I know how much the other person misses me
I feel like I'm not as committed to them as they are to me.
It's not on purpose.
I tell them I miss them when they say it first
but it's always a lie.
Maybe I'm just a sociopath.
I live beyond morality, cloudy
Skies issue complaints, however
I hardly have the time.
I often catch myself
Staring at creatures.
Wondering where they
Wander, and why.
I want to fight dragons today.
I want to find a voice
That suits me. Grey skies
And frozen cranes, bother me.
The stone wet, and
Broken. Lifeless creatures
Can be neither evil nor
Broken Binaries. Broken
Machines. What glues
Our heads to our
Is there a separation?
Walk down the hall and
Interrupt my view
Through the window.
Focusing again I see
Opaque. Unable to
Look past the glass.
Only up to it.
A sadistic outlook
I hide my fallacies and avarice in a sock drawer,
neatly placed next to my pill bottles
In the closet closest, I store the prospect of future casualties
Shuffled neatly undernearth media propaganda and the war in Uganda
I suffocate the tragedy of unknown victims in my display of malice
Muffled as they’re whimpering
I've become so acquainted with my sociopathic thoughts
That I greet them like you would an old friend.
I've forgotten what it's like to think 'normal'
And when that strange happening occurs
I become worried.
"This is not you.
You are insane."
And some would prefer it be different,
But I wouldn't have it any other way.
Alright. Enough with the shitty writing. I need to get back on that horse, that mental state that allows me to write better because this thing we have here, in my head, it ain't working. (2013)
We talked about people dying last night
and how I watched them do so
and I couldn’t help but to laugh at the memory
and you were laughing too
and maybe that makes us kindred sociopathic spirits
or maybe it just makes us afraid to be vulnerable
so we look at death and then we laugh like we aren’t really scared
and you shoot animals from your bedroom window
and I have to admit youre a pretty good shot
I wrote this in 5 minutes. Maybe I'll revise it someday.
I sit by myself
My feet fit in the space
behind the rows
my boots feeling
the stick of leftover
residue of someone else's
when the blue and black
of this giant space
comes up and the
sound invades the air
around my shoulders
and let the thinness
of fake light
and the emotions
fix and fill
the holes and
the road of
I am lost for words, as I am empathic with the planet.
Although we truly stand in line for death and the afterlife, it is important that we mother our young.
I do not deny the allurement of sociopathic inclinations and I heartily validate the sexuality of suburban expression.
But, we both know – politicians rise like winged beasts from the murky depths of sociological oceans.
Can I touch your skin and give you compliments?
I love your being, just as it is.
Confused by this?
Ya gettin' the jist
Years in a green mist
Gorilla pissed at the sight of poachers hi-viz
Gettin' me irate & militant
Conductin' information like a cobalt filament
If you don't know the deal look at Africa's innocents
The future for a fee
Cold as the Chukchi seas
If your wonderin' where they be?
Let go of Albert Square & check your geography
Menace to sobriety
Rudarellis playin' tennis with the moods it's supplyin' me
Preachin' no class As
Hittin' the mirror like the mans buyin' me
thoughts and feelings
pushing and weaving
through out my mind.
into the corners
of my eyes
When will there
be a middle ground
Will i ever be
fear of rejection
for a chemical
Or will living
be an elaborate
lie to keep
anyone and everyone