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Oh no you don't, website.

I want no part of this selection process.

Please remove this.
Wake to nothing
In place of emotion
Numbers as an ocean
Describe the pattern
At the heart of it
As much as you start
To feel a feeling
Like a spark
You are
Nothing at all
More than
Elementary math

Send/Receive

Send/Receive

Crawling in the absence
Critters drawn to absinthe
Drink of my synthetic blood
Broadcast discreetly
My signal seeks to meet
The systems caught the virus Love

The nightmare,
I puppeteer the players
In morbid fascination
The nightmare,
Eager to crush, but
Afraid of what
It's picking up
In morbid fascination
I puppeteer the players
The nightmare,
Virulent in nature
Yet scared of change to come
Fine,
if a bitter wind blows

Fine,
if a liar arrives

on my patio
hard heart
worn
right
with the
knuckle
skin

Fine,
pressed on the razor's edge
(grinning ear to ear as if I wanted it)

Fine,
when what was once the worst
(grinning ear to ear as if I wanted it)

returns to a placid place
below,
so

a new threat may
emerge
Enter a life devoid of
what you
won't ever believe
you truly
take for
granted.                           You do.

How do I know, you ask?
Well,             I have            eyes.

It's not hard to see
your hardships hardened
your heart
to any empathy for us

so,                 I turn               /OFF
                        too

so,                  ****       ­         You

What do I know of life?
I'm young /or dumb /and dumb.
I know that I live in a world
that venerates honesty but
punishes me for living with
a                    little               truth.

What do I know of life?
I'm young /and dumb /and dumb
I know that dissent in a world
that venerates this openess
is, will be met, with callousness
unrivaled. unrivaled. unrivaled.
Medusa combs her snakes back,
licks her lips,
crosses her legs on throne,
giggles,
sets her eyes on mine,
then opens her mouth,
souring the precedent she sets,
as a figure of merit.

Medusa says,
You better be the shape
Sent from the top down,
Obey, because
Medusa says,
You better hit the gym
Because you ruin
****** for everyone
You better obey,
because

The pantheon
you worship,
judges you
on high.
Even when you
express your thoughts
in a respectful way,
you'll find more
often than not,
you'll be told
assuredly,
you're wrong.

This is a tactic of those
hidden behind
status and clout.
They'll silence
your little voice
as they keep
right in your face
and shout.

You're entitled to yours
as they're entitled to theirs.
I want you to know, though,
those who refuse to let you speak,
have already decided inside
that you don't deserve autonomy.

Don't argue with the ill intended,
kids.

It's not your job to teach.
(The Suspicious Oracle shifts in their booth, then stands from the table to sway into the light. They sweep the dust from their clothes and flash a smile.)

It's been noted. Oh,
my observation is go.
Perceptive circuits
caught the web
where it stretches
overhead.

Words, words, words,
beautiful pontifications
Words, words, words
eloquent romanticisms
of the empathy empty.         n.            devoid

(The Suspicious Oracle removes a bill from their coat and presents it to the audience.)

In blood these names list
the elite who seem to
herd together,
and at the gate
keep the risen.                           .
                                                       .
                                                        .
     ­                                                                 ­               .clean

The searing ray of
justice past due
will melt the
chains save
freedom
for the
few
There you, go, though. That's elitism. Not everyone has the means to a healthy body. Poverty, illness, heredity -- these all have an affect on someone's access to health.

By saying, I find unhealthy bodies less attractive, I feel like you're doing yourself and your peers a disservice by severely limiting your empathetic capacities.

I'm poor. I'm a patient in the mental health system. And I inherited lupus and heart disease from my grandma's blood. I know there must be other artists out there who come from similar backgrounds.

Unhealthy backgrounds.

I didn't auto generate the right lottery numbers to have been blessed with a healthy body. I can keep myself in any particular shape I choose by dedicating my efforts -- and that's a luxury in itself -- but I'll never have a healthy body.

Now, if you're conflating the word Unhealthy with the word Fat, though, I don't know if I can help. They're two entirely different things. If you mean you don't like fat bodies, then you're free to say, I don't like fat bodies.

Though, if that's the case, that's a lot of materialistic negativity trickling down privilege mountain. A person's wit can make their body attractive. A person's charisma, intelligence, sense of humor, zest for life, confidence, courage, empathy, faith, dedication, loyalty, strength, self love can make their body attractive.

If you think unhealthy people are unattractive, your mind is small, and your heart is drained.

If you think fat people are unattractive, your eyes are cloudy, fogged by social conditioning.

Either way, I feel like your opinions make you an entitled ***. But that's the beauty of the freedom of speech. Maybe you feel the same way about me!
Broken from
circumstance.

Broken, on top of it,
from poor choices I've made.

What's to come if I
can't fix myself?

I must overcome
my lesser nature.

Would it hurt to
have help?

Let me send
up a flare.

I lose to my sadness
from time to time,

but I want to heal,
and encourage truth,

and I want to mend
with the others who

believe,
even under
a thousand
stings,

love exists and
empathy lives.
There are poor neighborhoods
that are tucked into towns,
where the less educated,
where the lesser of means,
find in the dregs, the ability
to coexist with higher society.

Society is grown to the point of disease,
killing the feeble, disabling the lost,
in the name of and for some ease.
So here comes the city, meaning so well.
They said, "Let's add a train line
to a town that has none!"

Well, there goes the block.
There go the people who
barely have homes.

The Council wants to drop a line
where they see shoes bounce power lines.
What's the harm in displacing
the part of the community already dead?
The town now seems to be just fine
now that the poor are paying fines.
Why not double down and just
gentrify when history tells the story best?

Expand Portland, rid Tigard of blemish,
trade your rug for cement and track.
Beautify Tigard, please your ill desire,
don't be surprised when your eyesore
comes back.

Go ahead, pave your poverty.
Go ahead, clean your streets.
You're thinking, "Lines for dimes."
What do you think a new line means?
What do you think the traffic brings?
The sweet guillotine repeats.
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