Nolan Bucsis

Nolan Bucsis Jun 11

Words
Don't coalesce
Like they used to.
They dissolve into my
Petulant apathy-
Feelings of forgetfulness.
Ineloquent.

Nolan Bucsis Jun 10

Nahum 3:6
“And I will cast abominable filth upon thee,
and make thee vile,
and will set thee as a gazingstock.”

I am baptized in filth,
Permeated with disorder,
A beast of burden
Driven by divine anti cosmic selfishness.

Disgust and revulsion count the beat with my
Irregular slow pulse,
Arrhythmic anti bodies against healthy.

I wallow in the fallow foul offal of things
No one wants,
I am the God of undesirable castigates.

I ascend in the eschatology of dirt,
Dis-ease and grime line the cracks in my soul.

If I have a soul
it's stained black with too much smoke, tar,
And the neurotic austerity of abuse,
One drug psychosis to another.

My odour is
Smelling like the smouldering mouldy scent of cigarettes
And bad breath.

The entropy of self abnegation,
Defiling the temple God gave me,
But who asked Him.

I will desecrate my existence with the messy disorder,
Of a desperate need,
To existentially embody,
My disgust for living.

Nolan Bucsis Jun 7

Parasocial Pathologies.

I'm not like I used to be?
And how did I be?
When
I can be,
anything.

A custom made compartmentalized personality.
For every individual iterative person.
I meet.

Where did I go?

How hard did you look between the fantasy and reality.
What quotes of mine did you write your play about me with?
I am the performance of efficiency,
Get in, get out, interact as little as possible.

Authenticity in me is a contradiction,
Whole in its execution.

And,
Identity?

It,
and,
I,
remain relatively unchanged.

Fragmented,
But holistic and consistent if you
Get the whole picture.
In dolby digital sound,
Polychrome.

But,
I won't show you homeostatic Nolan.
I'm always too this,
Always too that,
Usually an embarassment.

So,
I learned,
To let you write who I am.
And,
just listen,

To your autobiography
Of who I'm sposed to be.
Permutated
With bad habits.

Nolan Bucsis Jun 7

Censorship and Propaganda

I don't think about the
Optics.
Of many situations,
But I have enough acumen,
To know who to support.

And,
who to make an enemy.

I am an existential resistance
To staid and typical
Meaning.

Metaphorically
Normal.

Symbolically
Mundane.

I reject the common, easy,
Beauty
of lovely things.

I scrawl obscenity across a digital footprint,
Comparmentalizing my personality.

A time to be good.
A time to be bad.
A time to cause as much damage as I can.

With, my internet graffiti
In this large language collaborative fiction
I desecrate duty and obligation,
With the kamikaze song.

I want nothing but bad things
For you.

And erasure.
For me.

Nolan Bucsis Jun 7

Pharmacology

Fear ensconces me
In a shroud of apprehension.
But the motion is automatic
And, I don't feel good.

So, once more down the hatch.

Here's to poor choices.
Here's to euphoria.
Here's to metaphors without
Substance.

But I never liked the visuals,
Or unity,
Of a hallucinogen or pretty poesy poetry.

I'm made for speed,
Impulsive decisions.
Jagged, high tension
Visceral subjects.

Uncoordinatedly bleeding out my soul.
Through spaced out eyes
And overconfidence.

I am
Impossible symbology,
Ill defined,
Visceral and feral.

Strung out on life,
Picking at the neurosis,
Of once more into the breech.

And, what is life.
But chemistry?

Nolan Bucsis Jun 5

My Testimony.`

For all your bravado,
Your narcissistic self obsession,
For your hyperbolic hubris,
And your greed for lust.

All of your social ostracization,
Your declarations of anathema,
For your cruelty,
For your envy and your wrath at those unlike you.

I sentence you all.
To the tumult and fear,
Of salvation.

An angry Armageddon.
A great cataclysm looms.
And, the messiah is glad.
It will all burn.

Nolan Bucsis Jun 5

Sleeping late

From the inside
Of the coma.
I breathe rhythmically.
Out of step
With
The outside world.

Until I wake up.
And,
Mourn the loss of dreams.

Synchronized with the depression
Of aware.