A million motivational speeches, presented uninterrupted, and brought to you by: our sponsor- that time you balled your eyes out like a baby, just thinking about how much bullshit work you need to do.
by @thomas-hatchett
A million motivational speeches
won't make one iota of difference, man if you don't intend to do what you say you're going to do.
Do you
want to do
What you say
you want
to do?
Or do you lie
and just go get high.
And do the same shit
over and over again
Like an ass hole
just shitting all over the place.
The world is your toilet!
you putz! Shit! shut
the fuuuggck.
up.
dude...
You talk
so much shit.
It comes Out
both sides of your mouth
you incredulous fucking dunce. :/
Just stop
doing this Dude!
Stop actingp like an addict
and stop being like one too.
C'mon man,
You got this dude.
Let's just do it - You and me man
We got plan.
Just tighten up a little bit
Just like...
Not even that much at all, bid.
Just stop spending every Nickle
on dimes
Very waking hour in pursuit
Of trying to get high
like a fucking
crackhead
You're too good for this
Life you're living.
You ARE stuck.
Just like he said.
Brother-man
was right again.
He always is, you stupid som'bitch
That's why you respect him so much- He's Waaay fucking smarter than you.
Wait.
Can he..?
Can he be... yeah
he can be your higher power.
The power of reason, and vocation,
and clarity and preparation
Instead of worshipping the god of vacations and easy living and getting your way.
Like little lord Font Le'roy
But On cocaine
... day two:
Day one: number three:
no sleep, playing on repeat
Forgot to eat
Before getting deep
Into playing through
rolling heavy on sheer momentum
Just keep shuffling your feet
Oeughf!
A slice o'pizza
Just might be the
savior you need
to keep on doing it
like you intend to do
Without resting proper
between shifts.
You feel the difference instantly
As soon as it enters you
Your body's cheer for sweet relief
Especially When
it's already been
about a week
Since the last time this happened
Maybe two...
But,
Who knows
Not you, boo.
Waaah!!!
Boo-fucking-hoo
Settling down starts looking pretty sweet in contrast to this bogus plan you keep sticking to.
Boo hoo hoo, poor little you.
If isn't the consequences of your own decision, come down like a cartoon anvil right on top of you.
Boo hoo.
Hmm... ... oh yeah,
It's almost spOOky season
Did you even notice? That it's getting dryer outside and it's been cool.
You need to find somebody, buddy.
Prolly anybody, knowing you
But a little hottie with a body, and anxiety,
maybe some daddy issues or a skanky tattoo.
A Lil' cool weather cutie
to snuggle up to,
Big spoon style for a while
And then a turn as little Spoon
When it gets cool,
and comfy,
cozy on the counch
In bed by ten
Asleep all night next to something soft and breathing softly,
Safe, and Warm and full...
zZzsnNnoO!!
What are talking about?
You can't DO that, Dude.
You know this. If you could pull it off it would be done by now.
You're an old dog, you should be napping, waiting to die. Not trying to learn some new trick so some nice family will think you're clever and cute and adopt you.
You've already proved that
to the one it counted for
so either get your shit together
or get back in the groove.
We're doin it
and we're doin it this way,
You know: "foolish..."
like how we do.
Remember?
We do it foolish because that's the only way we know how to do it;
despite the caterwaul of disapproval
coming from the peanut gallery
And your family too.
But don't forget, you chose this dummy.
You chose this exact mistake to make
and every other one you've made,
and you did it just to prove...
Something'.
Had to be something.
Would anyone act like this just because they do? I mean... excluding me you know.
I consciously would,
and have, and most likely will
Continue to do.
So now we're being honest?
No more lying to myself to get on through?
You live to Prissy prance around in your cut-off sissy pants you probably pooped in not that long ago. Your little lady-boy ex-girlfriend short short denim jorts with no front pockets, because they are literally women's clothes.
[but they fit so good. And you can wear em for days on end and never feel it, they're like second skin along with the reanimated hoodie and band shirts and your dandy ascot made of handkerchiefs.] Make you feel like a man the way they make your can look good enough to shit out of when you shake it like your working on a rock club dance floor;
Or just outside the door
all by yourself
once everybody else is in
and no ones been looking at you
Long enough to know the score:
poop your pants and do a dance
Now thats livin man, I'm telling you
Y'all got it all wrong
I figured it out.
Now Go look at that stupid hat you love so much that you keep losing it every time you go some place you're never going back to,
if you could just keep it all together.
But you always get it back... because it's disgusting.
No one would steal the plague ridden gutter rat skin hat you wear so proudly like a toddler with basically anything they've never seen before and they just found.
Disgustingly cool!
You do really love that lil knick-knack, covered, paddy-whack, party hat with its dirty set of skulls and bones you always wear, along with the rest of the gutter suit you put together while you ran the roads (never going no where though. Like seriously: just round in circles.
why?
... Nobody knows)
Soaked and stained from sweat and rain and the occasionally dip and slip and hit the floor, sidewalk, or road.
I mean... it kinda fits if you really think about it long and slow: the ripped to pieces piece a shit ball cap with the flag flying high upon the stormy seas he sees behind his eyelids in his head, mumbling loudly, over the crowd
About your stupid thoughts on everything
Like some street wise vagabond wandering profit deigning visions of inconsistencies and plausible deniability and anything else you see in a visionary revelry of colors and sounds, words and dreams; imaginary company and lies about the things you see, and truths about the truths that set you free, like when you let reckless abandon take the driver's seat and turn the key.
Take the wheel Jesus, you're my only friend, imaginary as you may be. He's good enough for government and good Christian folk, why wouldnt he be good enough for me.
So I hit the streets and beat the rhythm out with the souls I got left on my feet. And I pad the rhymes with syncopated lines and try to keep my words coming out on beat, while I twist the narrative around until it no longer points its lens at me.
Ain't no one need to see this messy bear brow beaten, pacing parking lots and smoking cigarettes incessantly. Not looking up for anything just watching gravel travel past and under and back away. You should back away if you happen to come across this mangy beast. He ain't house broken but he wants to come inside and curl up sweetly right beneath your feet. But don't let his friendly demeanor fool you. Hell tear up alll the pillows and eat food you didn't even know you had, then piss the sheets... and smile and wag his tail when you get home and look SOOO saaad when you find him out for the little shit he never intends to be, but he tends to be a little messy bitch and he and for the couch, he's for the streets. So like l said, keep your distance He's too sweet to let the inside, because you're gonna kick him out again and he's gone whine and scratch unendingly. He knows there's food inside and he's hungry, it's so cold and lonely out here when it's just me.
What else are you gonna do on Tuesday night. Only urchins and gargoyles hang around the shadow side of town when no one's else is looking 'cuz they all got better brighter warmer happier healthier places to be.