the potential that people see in me is the potential I’ll never be, like golden rotten teeth, society setting the bar with dominating voices for higher purposes and the television had me chasing city dreams on the outside, they want me to be all skyscrapers, monumental and charismatic but on the inside, I feel like a conflagration of condemned buildings collapsing to the streets they given me the grass and they given me the graves but none of it matters because it’s what I decide to plant in the ground
the people I once adored are the people I no longer want to be surrounded by anymore
half the world is trying to sell you **** you don’t need and the other half is just disinterested, yet, they feel compelled to preach about their new found discoveries with the best intentions like blue herons swimming upstream, again the current
I refuse to acknowledge the aggregation of judgment from the principals of prosperity, honesty and integrity and be measured by levels of excellence and quality as I lower my expectations with beer cans that lounge like lizards aloft my bulbous beer-belly like buoys in the ocean, encrusted with a layer of mustard stained tattered torn t-shirts, dust on my boots, mud on my jeans, hair messy and knotted absentminded to the disease ridden impurities and set forth into the night with delicacy to look up at the stars shining so bright and enjoy myself because when you have no home to live in or roof over your head it’s kind of hard, not to
we are all animals, dull creatures in the kingdom of fire, preoccupied with perfection and dizzy with the unnecessary difficulties that standardized civilization has bestowed upon us