I hate your movement, your tainted, remorseful, inhuman, abnormalities.
hemorrhage your finances on useless entities, such as a mind altering beverage, more than one, or please go on and drink yourself to death. I was almost so accurately close to the unconscious mind you engage in every 12 hours, but loosely, abruptly, and significantly, it was what humanity refers to as a “failed task”. To you things are practical, so spur of the moment, our impulses we had frequently left us in dismal. Ever on occasions, if I ever. Finding a soul doppel-ganged to yours,  carbon copied, manufactured, identical traits, perfectly matched in sequence of personal qualities making me sink as far down as gravity could pull my main pumping *****, of course this is all anatomy. I laugh, although I should be rather pessimistic about that morning dawn, fogged, winter dawn. But what exactly is a joke without a punchline? A cell with no nucleus? a ******* house with no support beams? A band with no drums to keep everything counting, to keep everything in time? These things may no be able to survive without base, and you can find humor in everything life possesses, even after disaster. According to the most profound term of worship, the most known masked replica of “religion”, according to, this representative is god, the joke master. Look at your mentally impaired, speaking on a more serious level of course, I think things would ride smoothly if I had been blessed with autism. You see that type of mind state can put others at ease, they think so shrewdly that I feel sorry for them rather than the mental impaired. TO be gifted, to not give 12 ***** about media, politics, war, economy, and common global uproars. Thus if they do they know more than the presidential campaign combined into one single universal atom. What I’m getting at is are they the joke or are we?

I saw the mantis dead
still in praying position;
in all recognition
as I noticed him there;
I wondered his last meal;
I wondered his last prayer

Sometimes, I pin-point things.
I break them down single handedly
causing no disruption
to your lack of observation.
This interrupts some significant
social dysfunctions that manifests me daily.
Remorse for things, what things, I have no things.
I have pieces of bizarre delusions
in which I feel I need at the time.
I don’t need these things.
They already exist in here.
Burn them.
They’re already all around me.
Taunting, specifying,
predicting my next move, next thought.
Aroused brain assumptions.
Your still there.
Not noticing.
I need my medicine.
Medication.
Things.
Pill is a noun.
Noun- Person, Place, or Thing.
Never mind that disorganized thought,
I don’t need them anyway.

I wake up at 7 AM, its raining, go figure. I catch the bus by Cohen’s Food Co., soaked, on the bus now, and the windows are down. Lucky me. I brought my big Boss head set because last night the convenient apple iPod ear buds got soaked too. I guess it was karma. But at least these have good bass. Transit bus, not yet to arrive to the station, we travel over a vi doc, the distant fogged *** view? A St Louis skyline. Busy people in and out of the station. Babies. Druggies. Fuglies. The woman in front of me has no teeth. She kept doing a ritual gum technique with her lips. Smacking them inward as if her teeth were actually there. ****. I ride for awhile through the town. The plainest Jane land around, at least this Monday morning it was. My feet can’t touch the bus floor when I sit in the back. I like this, it reminds me of trips to California when I was small. The rental car was boring though once we got off the plane, Dad was asleep through the whole desert interstate. And my birthday, and your birthday. I’m at school. This junior college of filth. Free coffee though, I take a high advantage. MATH DRILL. Math. Simplifying the trickiest equations. Ratios and angles. Lateral products and dividing something half way through solving the problem. ***** math. 30 minute break. Smoking section. Nice little ash trays they supply, it would be a total turn off to walk far for a smoke in the wind. More coffee, I hate the taste, but need the caffeine. Second class starts. Writing. I like writing, but the projector smart board was broken, so we covered grammar from a text. We read something about complete sentences in the early 1920’s. In Europe. They would try as little as possible to use add verbs. Re-read this.

My mind
The Stage
I’m filled to a brim of dimmed bar lights
With the fewest of men gathering after works brew
Too much wheat
Too much rye
You’ve always enjoyed the flavor, so I counted on you for tonight’s half way pay.
Taste buds-yours are different
The stage and bar are both my mind, most nights
You work here?
I do not recall hiring you
No recorded resume either
Guess that’s how you’ve always gotten by
My intoxicated, stricken tendencies not caring to scam a background check  
What a hell of souls bottling down memories no longer apart of their minds
Guess that’s why I am an entire nightclub on the inside
Full of memory, music of genre spread variety
Giving many great nights of their short lives
I did so to you
Your on stage hovering like the snarling business associate you’ve always been.
But why was I too?
Dis-associating me from that is no option now
Nor ever
Oh your working around in my mind, I had almost forgotten
It’s been few too many drinks tonight.

I’m filthy
I’m sitting in my minds smoky corners with pool tables crowding my space
Click Click Are your breaking?
You have always liked my rack…ing
Dim blue lighting
When I take form of a whole crowd, I am an entire dim blue light
Your white
On a pedestal
Soaking Sulking Screaming
******* your way out
Expression Blank expression,
But maybe you’ve forgotten who’s mind your working in?
I’m reading you in italic bold
Your hiding it from everybody
But I know
I finally told somebody
They haven’t sold
Why do you erode my mind?
Still I ask
I have yet to discover that
Something I am sure of is that this VIP party won’t last
It’s getting late
Your way to drunk
Me too
How did you start working for this exclusive party anyway?
Sleep it off
I’ll fire you another day

It’s simple, speaking in terms of evolving
You have babies, infants, helpless little beings,
Just being and needing.

Children; there they are playing
Laughing around, giggling, crying,
Launching tempers towards wanted things,
Meaningless flings with people they won’t know soon,
And all their knowledge now
Turns into nostalgia tunes.

Adolescent phase; hormone filled
Feeling alienated no matter how hard you try,
Your awkward body won’t be for long,
Please, do not cry.

Adult hood; my how fast it flew,
You didn’t think you’d see marriage within those two
Lot’s of regrets, and down turns you might have missed,
Block it all out, attend that grocery list.

Not so new anymore, fragile
Acceptance gained
Widowing a loved one brought you great pain
Although you had your fun,
it’s time to recycle yourself, death’s best
It’s alright to forget, now go on and rest.