the trick wasn't falling
it was pretending to land
while suspended between
yesterday's promises and tomorrow's laugh

hey, I really cherished your bare minimum while it lasted
like watching dust dance
in the last ray of light
before the bulb burns out

we built cathedrals
out of cigarette butts
and called them progress
while somewhere
in the marrow of time
truth prostitutes itself
for another chance
at being wrong

everything holy
lives in dumpsters now
selling wisdom
at discount rates
to anyone who'll listen
to the sound
of dignity
learning how to crawl

In stillness I observe the crowd's swift change,
From cautious distance to feigned victory.
Yet I, servant to reason, maintain my guard -
This cloth upon my face, a simple shield.

Not for praise nor reproach do I persist,
But guided by Nature's unchanged decrees:
That which threatens life demands response,
Whether others choose to see or blind themselves.

Let them mock or stare - external things
Hold no power over the fortress within.
What is right needs no majority,
What is prudent requires no validation.

This mask - mere fabric, yet a duty fulfilled,
To self, to others, to the cosmic order.
Death comes when it must, yet wisdom asks
That we do not hasten its arrival through pride.

If you blow on your wine during a zoom meeting,
they will think you're just drinking coffee—
what a delicate dance of morning deception,
this sleight-of-hand in high definition,
while the universe yawns at our games.

Deep in the digital catacombs
where souls flicker in LED frames,
we toast to the art of looking proper
(your burgundy betrays no color
when the webcam's grain runs coarse).

Sweet entropy, how you must laugh
at our professional charades,
these paradox moments of truth and pretense—
one drink that's two in pixeled space,
while time ticks by in muted grace.

we sit in coffee shops
debating Marx
while thugs learn
the art of the swing

our PhDs gather dust
in rent-controlled apartments
where we write
manifestos
no one will read

somewhere
a high school dropout
is learning to lead crowds
with three-word chants
while we
parse syllables
and overthink
revolution

our libraries
full of solutions
gather cobwebs
while the streets fill
with simple minds
simple answers
simple violence

we're too smart
to be stupid enough
to win

educated chimps
in a cage
of our own design
watching the world burn
through designer frames
planning
planning
planning
until there's nothing left
to plan for

my alarm clock tried to unionize today
so I replaced it with three raccoons in a trench coat
(they're much better at time management
even if they keep stealing my emotional stability)

you think morning people are *******?
I've evolved beyond the concept of time zones
my circadian rhythm is just
interpretive jazz at this point

i have conquered the mornings
the evenings and
everything in between
(that's code for "I haven't slept since 2019
and now I can taste colors")

productivity blogs say to make your bed
but I've transcended that concept
by turning my entire existence
into one continuous unmade bed

the sun and moon are just spicy frisbees
and I've caught them both
with my bare hands
(they're in my pocket right now, wanna see?)

ps: time is a social construct
pps: so is my sleep schedule
ppps: the raccoons agree
(they're my life coaches now, obviously)

going to sleep already with morning breath
because time is a circle drawn by a drunk
and my body has declared itself an autonomous collective
voting against the tyranny of basic hygiene
this is the ultimate expression of freedom
to taste tomorrow's decay in yesterday's mouth
while the universe expands like a yawn
and somewhere in Lisbon a statue is questioning
its commitment to permanence
I have become the architect of my own deterioration
building empires of unwashed sheets
and calling it a revolution against the orthodox passage of days
this is what the history books won't tell you:
every great civilization began
with someone too tired to brush their teeth

my dentist believes in qi now

she used to drill teeth like a woman
possessed by the grind,
BMW in the parking lot
gleaming like processed cheese.

now she burns sage in the waiting room
while reading about
the fundamental interconnectedness
of dental plaque and the universe.
"your cavities," she says,
"are quantum phenomena."

i watch her wave crystals
over my open mouth
while discussing the metaphysical properties
of floss.
somewhere in the multiverse
there's probably a version of her
still believing in Novocain.

she traded her tennis club membership
for a meditation cushion,
and now tells me
that pain is just
the universe experiencing itself
through the medium of my rotting molars.

funny how mid-life crisis hits:
some people buy sports cars,
mine watches YouTube videos about
chakras and dental meridians
at 3 AM,
seeking enlightenment
one tooth at a time.