I think the whole point of life on earth is that the smaller creature
adapts and learns how to eat or destroy the bigger creature;
So mankind is destroying the ******* planet,
and I wonder what was taking us so long?

I've been waiting to turn to a stranger and say,
"Do you feel like everyone is living in some
synchronized insanity, and we all want to scream
and cry and break **** and generally riot,
but we don't just because we're told this is how
things should be?

So we just keep  moseying on in our illusion of security,
and perpetuate the illusion with the people who
reject it...[?]"

A stranger flagged me down on the street today,
and I crossed the street and just hopped over the snow bank
to help an old woman to the supermarket,
and **** me, I can't remember her name,
it was like Nancy or Margaret something old-timey.
I bought an orchid and waited for her to finish shopping,
but she told me she would be okay;

Like sometimes you want to let someone know
you're still trying, you're going to be "good",
but **** reading Bukowski still feels so "good",
and all your honesty isn't truthful,
but it's so sincere.
I imagine everyone else is waiting and praying
for everyone else to just snap and go insane.

Those people will look into you and say
"I get it. You're sad", and miss that so many bricks
and stones go into building castles,
and every iPhone shop in the world looks so
empty, disgusting, and caucasian,
and yet every store wants to be the iPhone shop
and so very few places can attempt to be the castle.

The castle takes time, effort... Tolerance.
Stamina. Weathering, aging...
Yeah it looks cold in winter,
but it'll stand in spring, and it'll
outlive the ******* iPhone shops
for centuries.

Anything that stands for centuries
is literally amazing,

And if there is a God, she is a black woman
and the entire world calls her n#####,
and she cries herself to sleep every night.

We are all the company we will ever have in
all those lonely strangers.
If you've ever seen a cat try to **** another cat,
you might be me,
and you may realize mankind is brave and noble
and stupid and messy and disgusting
and terrible terrible terrible and so much better than
their feeble bodies, but so much
worse than gods and heavens and undeserving
of anything supernatural and kind.

We are a cesspool made of solid gold.

Yet, I've taken down my nooses.
I've made my sharp edges dull.
I look both ways when I cross the street.
I take care of a plant now.
I try to take care of myself.
I get by, and that's my plan.

To get by and be happy.

I don't wanna "live life to the fullest"
with some obnoxious artistic gesture
and "wacky" mannerisms,
I force feed to people who don't care.
Trying to make people think I'm
successfully immature, because I'm not.

I don't want to be some retail manager
and employee somewhere else,
getting it at both ends, unpleasantly,
trying to make people think I'm mature
or responsible, because I'm not.

I can't be Bukowski, and I can't be Ginsberg,
and I can't be Emily Dickinson, or Jack Kerouac.
I might have lofty fantasies, and sometimes I'll
attempt them, but I don't want those "plans"
that blow up in your face when the string gets pulled.

I have priorities.

I want to grace through life on thinning plastic wings,
playing last years video games,
listening to timeless music,
and most importantly,
being loved by the people
I love so very much.