I’d been waking up in this bed for 17 years now, in a land so alien to me when I first arrived that it had created deep within me equal amounts of fear and excitement, both in their rawest forms. This was a place where I felt nothing of the world around me and from this I found great solace, a numbed reality. People always described China to me as being a ‘culture shock’ however I came here and took it upon myself to undergo a cultural reinvention – a rejection of all I had known previous. My home had felt stagnant and unappealing for much of my adolescence and as thus I never intended to stay grounded. Nevertheless my striking choice to move to the Far East was no bold adventure; it was simply a regression into a state of complete disassociation only made possible by such a decision, such a radical change in scenery. I have never fully integrated into the society I chose to place myself in and so never feel any want or need to leave, it was the disappointing nature of human interaction that made me leave my birthplace in the first place. To this day I know little of anybody I once knew, how they now live or even how they reacted to my exit, in this lack of knowledge I find bliss. If I were to know then this little bubble of ignorance I have created for myself would be popped – the illusion destroyed.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 5:24 AM UTC
Inverted archways ascend
As urban reality – warped, broken,
Bends.
Trains travel and delay
As in entropy’s inevitable decay want is
Accepted.
Cigarette butts, jagged glass shards
- An urban holiday decoration.
Men will weep and I will slumber
As this wretched city walks over
- Laughing -
Oh! I will live in hunger
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
There was an essential part of friendship circles,
Enslaved by their own minds, a broken collective menace.
No great outpour would come from their imagination as
I watched and waited with unbridled peaceful subtlety.
Who cares if people smoke, I don’t even enjoy it
I do it to die.
(Self-destructive wretch.)
One line
Lines
Make aesthetic pleasures exact themselves without purpose.
A masterpiece of modern verse constructed spontaneously:
Without regularity or rhyme, to calmed and cool tones.
I don’t need people; I don’t enjoy them
Nor do they let me die.
This is no suicide note
Simply an appreciation of mortality
I revel in the prospect of my own downfall.
(Masochistic, selfish wretch.)
In art’s putrid ***** comfort is found
Pop culture comparisons made to figures of excess.
I want to be of a certain kind
Loved, killed, then vilified.
The final wish of a tortured soul’s hand.
But also who wouldn’t like to ring my neck?
Not for futile revenge, the ‘emotion’ most dry,
Instead I’ll **** for cold, callous heroes.
No ‘human condition’ - more like the intellectual plague...
I wish.
And think, think, think, think, think, think through
A thorough thinking with illness entrenched
And those most sick who think with more than
Streaming language: the minds penicillin.
I find limbo a destination more desirable than this.
Coming to our strings end the circles’ once tense ties are broken,
Friends’ own minds are once again enclosed, broken -
The menace of others thoughts are felt
-- hard.
People spread their mindless lust with an air of freedom.
(So Ignorant.)
The arrogant are lost
And true freedom is found in strange words such as this
Spontaneous language is resumed
I am free to do as I wish.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:49 PM UTC
My futile need
To work hand in hand
Acts neglectfully
As the renaissance did too,
To the common man.
Hindrance met,
Frail streams deterred,
- as I -
Man amongst boys
Fall in, and am
Cured
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC
A solemn wasp invades personal space
It’s buzzing – annoyance in stereo.
Trapped, alone, impending death confronted
It’s passing – a just journey.
Bonds are formed, the wasp’s brothers and
Feelings of naïve permanence
Fill the air.
Lost.
Unjust.
Perhaps dearest wasp truly travels alone.
Why is it this pestering beast?
Itself not a compelling creation
Creates hate with an air of such ease
And when gone, vacuums ensue
To extreme, unexpected sadness
The next life will see done, on equal footings made.
The wasp will be a true friend with a
buzzing friend buzzing relative buzzing girlfriend
buzzing boyfriend buzzing son buzzing daughter
buzzing home buzzing you
Oh dearest buzzing life please release me too.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:48 PM UTC