Anger at who defends language as something holy
Fury at the ease with which cruelty is inflicted
Rage at the inescapability of money and society
Chafing and aching against self awareness
**** the stoics for teaching manly indifference
**** the christians for preaching fake empathy
**** the evolutionary drive, the cultural roles and all who allow oppression to thrive
Broken systems are all we have, after all.
Il try and keep avoiding looking at the cracks

It came back.
After all my attempts against, and all my fiercely believed immunity, it came back
Surrounded me with instinct-clear, instant-clear physiological reaction that told me in the wordless way the body talks to the concious mind:
this is true.

Aristotelian resilience against a story with no winners or happy endings.

And then it left again, as it always does. As It should be.
A wake of hardly remembered pain, and some fuzzy ideals holding me together, barely worth the name.

I miss her a little sometimes
We didn't say goodbye with words
We didn't say it at all.
In my dreams i've died a hundred times
she must've died a thousand or more.
We saw life through same shades
***** dark pink, scratched allover.
She learned so much from so many
kinds of pain and blood.
forever teen spirit
***** crazy dark bright pink
eyes shinning with delight and pain
her head high, tears dry
she told me she'd do it one day
there was no place for her here
she was at least half right
i ******* miss her a lot sometimes.

From a vessel arise
Both feelings and farts
One from the stomach
And one from the heart

They must follow a path
Both sentiments and ****
One goes to the mouth
And one goes to the pit

They’re sometimes restrained
Both crap and emotion
One for no reason at all
And one for bad time notion

But in neither of cases
Will closing the exit
Will make them not be.
I hope you'll forgive me
For comparing feelings
to scatology.

I keep trying to write it.

To make it happen.
Moving little pieces,
bit by bit or
shoving them around.
Either
Disturbing and mixing
To see if something will
Arrise from the mess
or
Staying still, inanimate,
maybe my actions are
not letting things happen.

Maybe it thinks
and evades me.

Maybe you're not supposed
To look for love at all.

Let me sink another glass of wine
To bring me closer to the divine
I don't mean a God of any kind
(If you're religious I hope you don't mind)
I mean the place inside of me,
Where I know lives good poetry