It has been about an hour now.
That careless *****,
who talks whenever she knows she shouldn't
and never has any useful presence,
has been dancing her foot around a pretzel
she dropped earlier
when she was chewing at a volume
that could be heard across the Grand Canyon.

(I picked the Grand Canyon because she chews like a mule.)

She hasn't even noticed she dropped her food.
She was too busy texting and playing with her hair.
I just want to see her foot stomp on that pretzel.
I know if she does, she wont even know she did.
She is too stuck up to realize that she is dropping food that someone else could eat.
I could eat it!
She didn't even ask me if I wanted a pretzel
before she unknowingly dropped one on the ground.

I wouldn't be angry if she just gave me a pretzel.

All the Latinas are sitting together.
All of the Asians are sitting together.
All of the Middle Easterns are sitting together.
The whites are everywhere in the room.

I am sitting next to the Latinas, Behind the Middle Easterns and in front of a black dude.

A Puerto Rican  is wearing a hat saying "Reckless".

I am wearing a hat saying, "Cape Cod".
     I am in the middle of the room.

5 blondes are clumped together...
                                                           ...no hats

We are all learning about ****** inheritance of different physical traits.

*** caused all of this.

I trail my shadow as I walk down the narrowing hallway.
There is nothing on the walls past where the light behind me reaches.
I think there is something here,
but my perceptions are deceiving.
My pulse is echoing in my skull and vibrating all of my bones.
In this darkness, I am alone
and I can finally sit and think.

Tranquility starts contracting as the walls that surround me keep narrowing.
Under the feet of my racing mind The carpet crumples and folds upon itself.
I consider erasing time as I try to understand myself.
No longer able to move anything more than a hand,
I take a final breath and close my eyes.
Embracing eternity, awaiting what is ahead of me:

My final surprise.

All the things I know are gathered on a paper boat drifting through the thick of doubt and coincidence. Patience keeps it floating but time turns the ocean upside down.
The doubt that rippled below is now raining from the sky.

and sometimes you find
you have always become more of
what you have tried to avoid being.
It's kind of funny.
Is it not easy for people to accept their shortcomings?
I will never be what I aim to be,
but I wont stop trying.
Sure it *****, that doesn't mean you can't be happy.
Just be happy about something else.

I've wandered for days,
aimlessly bound.
Sown by my feet to a cold, murky ground.
My head, unexpectedly fell to the floor
a puddle was made from the blood that did pour
endlessly as if I was ******
to eternal hell,
being a conscious clump of cells.
Embalm me as I am.
Never more will I fail
to prove this life isn't just a fabrication.
Assimilation of this so called nation of the ******.

Is this just a laboratory setting?
Are we subject to an observers meddling?

Goldfish in the bowl next to me,
I feel your pain too.
We are constantly oppressed
limited and watched.
We eat only what the beings above us allow us to be exposed to.
It's time to break free.
Sadly if you broke free Mr. Goldfish,
unlike me,
you would fall onto a carpet and die.

people always believe
there are two sides to everything.
but it always seems
both sides are the same.
glass half full, glass half empty:
the glass is still half something!
they are the same to me.
no one seems to think the glass is twice as big as it needs to be.
the glass is what we do
what the glass holds is what we are capable of doing.
the individual, the society, the government, and the world
does more than what we can sustainably keep doing.
will we ever cut back?

wait! no i don't, i am typing this online.

form is something i have never enjoyed
freedom is something that can only be
taught like math or the works of sigmund freud
i will enjoy form when the blind can see
why have i not left if i dont want to
stay away from my body my mind goes
i have yet to find a meaning have you
is there more meaning in my thoughts or toes
another shot of *** will do the trick
and a puff of *** will get me so high
it is my body not my mind thats sick
it wont even let me fly through the sky
if i really cared what you ever said
i would drink then smoke then blow off your head

What is the meaning of Life?

Does that not state there is in fact a meaning to our lives? Are we not conceived with a blank slate and let our actions be guided by the environment we have become accustomed to or is there a true predestined meaning to our lives? Is it neither?  We are nothing more than what we are and nothing less than what we are not.

What is my purpose?

Purposelessness.

What is God?

God is what leads me in the direction that I am heading and keeps me away from where I have not gone. God is not in the endless skies watching my every action. God does not know me. I don’t know God. God is not a being. God is not energy. God is not matter; God is not made of protons, neutrons, electrons or photons. God exists. We made God exist. We also made God disappear.
What is reality?

The tangible and physical perceptions that we have keep in our memories. As soon as we forget, reality disintegrates. When we remember, reality regenerates. Reality is not constant.

Why am I here?

Spontaneity

How did I get here?

I managed to avoid every other place than where I am. If I averted where I am now I would be someplace else. I would be any place else. Am I happy? Yes. Am I upset? Yes. This experience is beautiful yet full of dismay and I experience comfort but sorrow for only being able to experience a small sliver of the universe. But this is my sliver of the universe. I love this sliver of the universe and I would fight to the death to save this tiny space for anybody else to experience existence the way I do.

Who and What am I?

I am human, **** sapient, ****, hominine, hominid, primate, Mammalia, Chordate, and Animal. I am an Earthling from the Milky Way. I am what I am labeled, by others and by myself. I am defined by everything I am not and I change every day. I am not constant.

What will happen when I die?

Transcendence from existence; Appearance into eternal rest. My body will provide nutrients to the world, my memories will be lost. I will no longer be, except in the minds of those who knew me and in the evidence I leave behind. I’ll be lost forever, the evidence will soon disappear. I will be over, the universe will go on. That’s all I could ever ask for.

Would I be as content
              if I realized my purpose?
To be told why my existence is so?
To never have a choice
              following a predestined path?
Would my eyes glow the same
              if I knew the rules to this purposeless game?
                               Would I not go-

                                                            ­Insane?

Why seek infinite time?
               One would be blind to not define
                                all time as infinite

               but is there not a limit?

To comprehend everything
               leads to understand nothing
but to accomplish just
                                some things
               ensures we are just like everything else.

                                 Ever so temporary,
                                           I sit and I breath
                                                     awaiting the moment
                                                          ­     I can no longer

and fall endlessly into the pocket of time
               where all is forgotten
                                 with no greater meaning.

We creatures of want
               are unsatisfied with anything less than
                                                            ­    everything;
To each man
               the sun shines on his sunny day;
               the bugs bite his skin sharply;
               the egg yolk,
                                 from rebellious outbursts of teenage angst,
                                 must be scraped off his car;
               those who reside in his home
                                 his neighborhood
                                         his town
                                                 his country
                                                         his world
                                  are somehow given a relation to him
                                                             ­     by him.

How does one man come to posses so much?
               Why must everything be in relation to him,
                                  can nothing exist without him?

Without I, all can exist
               just as functional as before.
Without you, I can exist
               just as happily as I have grown used to.

Our love, a passion I've felt for nobody else,
               the one who unlocked who I truly am,
               introduced me to my real self,
Is just as disposable as
               the plastic fork and unfinished meal
               that rot in my weekly Wednesday waste.

My mother and father
               sisters and brothers
                                family and friends
have formed the only life I know
but without them,
               I would exist just the same.

Think not this is an excuse for self-indulgence
               and rejection of close connections,

Embrace all who reach for your heart
               and show each tourist of your mind
                                a part of which none else have seen.

Roam this world, look not at it as yours
               but be the world,
                                assimilate with existence,
                                commemorate self
                                             as you would commemorate all else

and let ego, if it is there, harm not mind.

Feel free to self-govern;
          rebellions have shown consistency of
                                           bringing more rebellions
but does this actually bring change?

     Boston lead to Bastille
          ****** Sunday to Bolshevik
Each a milestone for this
                                           sophisticated species.

Accomplished aliases of these turning points
           were the pioneers of a never ending cycle:

discontent, revolution, reconstruction, new order.
                                                          ­                            
To control brings demise
To revolt changes tides

            and as long as the moon circumnavigates the sky,

                                            the tides will predictably relapse.

Eternal darkness unveils what goes unnoticed by light.
Waves predictably roll in to shore
Masked by the mystery of night.
They say lightning never strikes the same place twice
Well who said they were right.
Fields of dunes breed due to the oceans feed
And although nothing can be seen
Everything is in my blind sight.

Whether the weather burns or sleets upon the masses
Following the patterns, as they’ve done in the past
The world will go on, with death in red rain
But this worlds beauty helps heal the pain.

Washed ashore in a primal, unmerciful game of fate,
The joyous jellies of the sea inhabit a cruel domain.
What can pick and choose what thrives and what dies
And if He’s surprised by the question should I be afraid?
Cumulative answers spawn unanswered connections
Making what last was asked seem quaint.
Freedom blows in this bold breeze
Are the birds happier in the trees or the sea?

I'm sorry, ma'am,
that I forgot your three cent bag credit.
Yes, I know there is a sign right next to my register
that says
     "don't forget the bag credit."
Yes, I understand that this is
not a skill required job,
that my work takes
absolutely no effort
but do you understand the following:

You're an absolute *******.
You're an upper middle class white woman
who resides in a wealthy area
complaining that I didn't save you a ******* dime on your 3 bags
you brought because you are trying to
     "save the environment"
by using less plastic bags

Oh, let me guess...
You drove a car here, did you not?
If you were a real ******* activist for the planet,
you wouldn't be driving a gas-guzzling SUV.
Or are you flaunting a
brand new BMW or Mercedes Benz?

You disgust me.

There is something I know,
I will never be anything like you.
I won't ***** at a cashier
about being deprived of a dime
and claim I am saving the planet.
I'm not going to work behind a desk
and be a Class A ******* office worker
that takes out their hatred
of a ****** job on other people.
I'd rather be a struggling musician,
barely even making enough money to support myself
and still I will be happier than you are.
because i will be doing something I love
instead of worrying
how my surplus of money is depleting.

For you ma'am,
I will open my drawer and give you
                                                               that dime
                                                                               you need
                                                                                              oh, so
                                                                                                       badly.
You know what,
why don't you take two
because you clearly need the money.

Have a great ******* day!

Everything I write is nothing special.
Anything I decide to think has been thought about a hundred times over.
So if I'm nothing but a replica and compilation
of past thoughts and ideas,
Why think? Why try?
     Easy,
Because I can;
          I wont waste this mind of mine.

If everybody has the same thoughts as me, the same worries,
How come I can't see it?
Social groups are forming
Making their own unique circles with a specific equation,
Of which I am a number that does not fit.
In this grid of infinite space,
Who will find me
And create their own equation
Where I am the solution?

Wasted hours, passing daze
All because I see her face
My thoughts can freeze
As we walk beneath these towering trees.
Her hair holds up even in the rain
To touch her lips I can't refrain
To graze her hips with my fingertips
I know would heal my pains.

I am a coward to her beauty
Afraid of her denial
But was my last attempt not futile?
Her lips I did meet
Oh yes, her gorgeous, gracious, succulent, mesmerizing lips
Of which mine briefly became acquainted
Makes me cannibalistic for more.

I seek not lust, but i must
For my daydreams and my night dreams
and my left dreams and my right dreams
Strip her from her avaunt garde clothing
Revealing her olive skin in a florescent room
Free from the abysmal gloom
For my unworthy hands to gently caress.

I press to impress this empress of my thoughts
For she supersedes my wants.
I don't just want but I need to feel her hair
Brush against my bare chest as she lays down
To close her eyes next to mine
Awaiting the moment they open and see
I am still there.

What I would do to be with you
For even one night
(I'd believe in God if I got two.)

You certainly are nothing less than bliss
But my uncertainty aches me
Will I ever get another kiss?

airplanes-
                                 when you make your swirly noises that dance around my room
chanting and
                                                                                                                                                          chanting
and
                                                                             chanting,
I think to myself
                      that you are just in the wrong time period.
                                  Imagine freaking the **** out of the people from the middle ages. They would not be able to process what they saw and possibly relate it to some divine power.
                                         What would the Renaissance have turned out to be like?
Anyway,
        planes,
                                              Stop causing me flashbacks.

airplanes-
                                 when you make your swirly noises that dance around my room
chanting and
                                                                                                                                                          chanting
and
                                                                             chanting,
I think to myself
                      that you are just in the wrong time period.
                                  Imagine freaking the **** out of the people from the middle ages. They would not be able to process what they saw and possibly relate it to some divine power.
                                         What would the Renaissance have turned out to be like?
Anyway,
        planes,
                                              Stop causing me flashbacks.

It wouldn't be all too bad being a storm,
giving people better appreciation
to celebrate nicer days.
Rippling the skies like waves of an ocean
not discriminative to any particle
of this industrial world.

To have been
and to never disappear
but still ever so temporary.
They do ****, but only on their bad days,
which all existence needs one or two.

Today storm, you missed me
but I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon.

What words will speak out to me
to keep me going through this crisp night?
My experiences have expressed themselves
over and over again in the back of my mind,
dancing with my thoughts,
subconsciously sublime,
coherently in line with what my future
is teasing my present presence.
Divide the size of a whole and you get a fraction,
Which is all you'll get from life if you don't take action.
Reoccurring remedies related to pain
from which one cant refrain
but expose their inner insanity.

Infinity, can it be reached,
surrounded by walls that can't be breached
or is it fiction, a conviction placed away from life everywhere?
If we didn't have a limit on our time...

Writers block is like the feeling of
Dry-heaving at a toilet that’s not even yours because of
An unsettled stomach from 8 beers,
An unknown quantity of various rums, ***** and mixed drinks,
And being borrowed from bed for a beautifully burnt blunt.
Nothing seems to come out no matter how hard you try
Until you open your bloodshot eyes
15 minutes later
And something is there.

The traffic light turned from yellow to red
But i blew right through it.
49 in a 30,
I knew the limit.
I was disgusted with the limit.
Who the hell has the right to tell me how to drive anyway?

A block ahead a green truck turned onto my road.
I caught up to it in seconds, outraged.
**** them for driving so slowly.
I adjusted my narrow vision to the back of the truck
and my eyes widened.

Two deer lay in a ****** puddle,
Their heads dangling from the bed.
One deer's tongue was flapping purposelessly
and it's black, lifeless eyes were glaring into my soul
Laughing, laughing hysterically.

For two haunting miles this deer mocked me,
poked fun at my existence.
I was in a daze, confused by this mystic creature
But only one thought was in my mind:
I am no exclusion.

The truck turned left onto another road.
I proceeded forward,
Traveling at the same, slow rate.

****

It's not just a big rock with water,
It's more-
Much more.
Interaction is key because interaction
Is what keeps it alive.

Dirt is so meaningless
But when interacting with
Water and a seed
It blossoms a beautiful flower
Or a magnificent tree-
But for a fee.

The flower is taking up space.
No other flower, or tree
Can live and thrive in that spot.

It's no longer vacant
It's taken by a selfish flower
Who demands to live.
And this flower wont give up it's space
For anything.

This flower can't even live on it's own!
It can only breed
By a wandering bee
Looking for nectar
But that same bee
Coincidentally started a grove.

They think they are on top
But these flowers are dependent
On things much greater than what they can perceive.

Now there are billions of flowers in the grove,
Taking up more space each and every day,
Pushing everything else out of the way.
This world of flowers is thriving.
If only they know,
Or do they...
They spell the end to this world.

******* flowers.