How do you decide?
Decide what to do,
What the future holds for you?
I don’t understand, one goal,
One goal that somehow
Supersedes them all.

How do you choose?
When passion flows through you,
For not just one, nor two,
But many life paths, careers,
It all means something to you?

I feel lost, thinking of the future.
I’m floating by, trying to find,
Something that could spark
More than mere interest,
Something that could captivate,
Hypnotize me for long enough.

Because you see, I flit from one
Passion to the next, one minute
I am drawing, the next sewing,
The next it’s animals I love,
Or how about teaching children?

And I sit here empty, not sure
Which path to take, which goal
To make, to work towards,
Because right now, I’m in
The inbetween, no job,
Not in school, what do I do?

But the reality is, I’m trying to find
That one magic passion,
That somehow works with my
Disable body, since almost everything,
I find it all exhausting.
And my mind is spinning circles,
A dog chasing its tail.

Why can’t I do it all?
Why can’t I just enjoy life, enjoy
All of the things it brings,
And take my time, because I’m
So tired, of trying to figure it all out.
Tired of planning, I’ve never been
Too good at planning, when there’s
So many things occupying my mind,
So many things that I desire.

But even then, even then, if I could find
A goal to work towards, a dream job
For right now, well that takes work
And it takes time, because it
Turns out it’s all a ladder that
We all have to climb and being disabled,
Well I feel left behind, not sure
How to move forward when
I also have to go up, and going
Up has always been so draining.

I must work now, to somehow
Get somewhere I would rather be,
But what do you do when most jobs
Require me to be on my feet,
With my level of experience,
And education, limiting me?
It’s like I have to hurt myself
In order to hopefully some day,
Live a better life, I guess that’s why
So many say, ‘suffer now, and
You’ll get your reward later’

I tried university, tried college,
But you see, being disabled,
Has made them  difficult for me.
At least, in the ways that I was pursuing.
And now I’m stuck, trying to find my way,
How to get out of this rut, this mess,
All around me while being limited
By my own body, when I’m so used
To trying so hard to keep up
With the rest of them, charging
At how much money they can earn.

Money, it always comes back to money.
And money stresses me out,
Makes me more sick, gives me more
Pain that I would ever like to be in.
Well, apparently, money is
Supposed to be the solution.

Not so easy when the job market is crap,
I didn’t come from money, so I had to
Start off with nothing, and make my own way.
But where do you start, when
All your ‘now’ prospects seem
Rather lackluster and all you can do
Is prepare for a future.

Strange to think that we’re told to
Live each and every day like
It’s the last one we may ever live,
When we have to spend our beginnings
Stuck in preparing, deciding, and striving
For a future, so hard to make,
When all you started with was
A journal to write in.

I just want to live now,
I want to live everyday,
I want to spend more time
Cultivating all this passion inside
Of me, it’s bursting inside of me.

But there’s this rut, this anxiety,
This fear, of having to build a life,
No, a career. So that I can live
In the future, instead of now,
So that hopefully, we can get by,
Scrape by, by the skins of our teeth.

Tired of working crap jobs,
That I don’t really like, where we’re
Unappreciated, and paid to barely live.
Overworked, underpaid, I’m in so much pain.
My body, can’t stand in this pain,
But that’s all I can do is stand.
In pain, at a cash register,
Or making drinks, no consideration,
Of the struggle it is of being disabled.

Because we all have to able.
Able to stand, to push, to work
Your ***** off, until there’s nothing left,
You’ve given all you’ve got, and then
Some. Soul *******, career bent,
Work too hard, to fit in.
You got to be a workaholic to fit in.

Well I can’t keep up with that pace,
And I see it wearing people thin,
People that have more strength,
More drive than I ever did.
How are we supposed to live,
When you have to work to live,
And, in turn, live to work.
It’s extremely exhausting.

All of this jumbles inside me,
I can’t breathe, can’t decide,
How I’m supposed to live my life
When everything screams
On all sides, that I’m supposed to be
Running, supposed to be rushing,
And that all seems so wrong.

I just want to live a life that has meaning.
Something meaningful to me, that I can
Actually enjoy each moment as it passes
Us all by, I don’t want to rush life
Before it all ends, I’m so tired
Of trying to run in this ‘rat race’
It’s not a race, I need a slower pace.
I demand a slower place.
No more running, no more racing,
It’s time to live in the now,
No fear.

Warning: Use dis list in context.*

You decide on which side you fall.

disappear
disregard
disaster
displace
disqualify
disrepair­
disturb
dissipate
disability
dispose
dismal
distribute
distrust
­disturb
discriminate
discuss
disdain
disguise
dishearten
disinher­it
disown
disparage
disagree
disgruntle
disclose
discolour
disput­e
disarm
discover
disassemble
disadvantage
disallow
dispossess
di­scontent
discontinue
disrespect
disincline
discomfort
disrepute
d­ishonest
disillusion
dishonor
dismiss
disobey
disjoin
disappoint
­discipline
discord
discern
discrete
disfigure
disconnect
disappro­ve
discharge
disbar
disease
discord
disfavor
disengage
disassocia­te
discipline
discount
disembody
displace
dissaray
disembowel
dis­combobulate
discredit
discourse
disentangle
disenfranchise
disemb­ark
discard
disburse
disbelief
discover
disable
disagree
disinteg­rate
dismay
dispense
dislodge
disclaimer
disapprove
dissatisfy
di­srupt
dispel
dislike
dismantle
disloyal
disbatch
disrobe
disperse­
display
disaprove
disciple
disavow
disconcert
disinfect
disorder­
dismal
dismember
displease
dissemble
disunity
dislocate
distort
­distrust
distress
dissolute
disassociate
distill
discect (?)
distemper
distain
distasteful
distraught
dissolve
dissonant
d­issuade

And dis isn't de end.

If I could, I would.
And if I would, I should.
Always wondering why others don’t make change
Before looking at myself and seeing I’m in the changing range
I’m more then capable.
To set chained people free, to disable
All the evil and the hurt,
All the bleeding and the dirt,
I’d pick up every single child,
Bring them back outside the wild
The one painted as far away,
Out of our sights, out of our way.
The people we have labeled as numbers and statistics
As if they don’t have lives and homes, seeming unrealistic.
The little girl I watched with pain on the television.
She watched her family members die, crying, just envision.
Walking on the rubble, as I watch her stumble,
She will be a woman before she hits the age of eleven.
The traumatizing scenes before her; the opposite of heaven.
Is she another number, too, without a life of love?
All this peace we say we want is like a murdered dove.
If I could feed her faith again, and teach her life is good,
Fill her stomach’s starving screams with love she understood, I would.
Add the mother on the street, holding her baby tight.
To protect him from the bombs flying, braving off the fright.
They all have futures bright as the morning sun at noon.
But before dawn is what they see, darkness a filled balloon.
My mother never had to face having her kids in danger
So why would I keep quiet when it’s a stranger?
I look at them and see the same face in the mirror.
If I could tell her he’ll be safe and so will she the same,
Nothing’s going to hurt them, not even their names.
Hand her keys of relief,
Slaughter beef in the streets,
Fill her stomach’s starving screams with love she understood, I would.
And to my brother in Peru, working as a slave
Fields built just for drugs, he’s ordered to behave
Before they cut his hands off, for misconduct, it’s that grave.
Working for pennies, the money is funny.
Revolution’s underway, so lock and load in any range leaving the world unsteady.
If I could tell him he’ll be free, to just wait and see,
The government won’t be mechanical, racist psychologically.
He’ll leave the land of too much distortion, and give him the peace that’s his portion, I would.
How can the light so bright make a man so evil like the times of medieval?
Cold war’s over but we just keeps getting colder
Like we’re filing invisible morals into empty folders
Can you even feel the truth until it comes your way?
Like players pray for hope,
It’s severe what the hopeless will do for play.
Keep shooting rockets at generic topics,
Until the lyrics hold weight unlike 2-D objects.
My people are hungry, tired and sweaty.
Dreaming of revolution looking at the machete.
Innocent children drowning in screams
And we can’t hear them; we’re not a part of the same team.
Acting like the army didn’t bring hell here.
For most people, pile on the blood and the fear.
When driving on a road, construction means we steer
But I’ll get back on track; life isn’t just for me before I die in remorse.
Fight for my lands with words like bullets, loaded with force.
Whatever we take in risk is our matter of course.
Pay attention to change, I know that I will.
Too many dollars down here, I have more than my fill.
So change I will, because my will is to change.
Quit dreaming, its illusions they’re scheming.
But I said I’d bring peace, so ***** the policing.
I said, if I could I would.
And if I would, I should.
Well, I can, so I will.
Make me a martyr, this is not a fire drill.
Make me a martyr. I’d do it still.
Make me a martyr, I’ll prove to you the charter.
Just make me a martyr.

we keep them in cages
we want all of our friends to see
so we put them on stages
they should be out there running free

my friend on the table
won't stop scratching at the glass
I've chosen to disable
this animal's natural path

They say: we, humans, were born for reasons
then blinded for a reason was I?
or, muted for a reason was I?
intricately, not to see the beauty of the world's wonder
not to sing the melody of sweet rhythmic dulcet,
yet precious, perfect unique design
they call I am, God's special one.
I can't see I am, still
I can't say I am thus, still
I can't completely sense I am.
I move, yes, with freedom, a figment, though
yet imprisoned in an eggshell, my deadend
grave I had never.

A man stood over a disabled man in
A super market to ask him for
A cup of coffee and the second man didn't know who he was and
Told him the ******* and the man
Said please buddy I would like to have a coffee with you and the discord man said please leave me the tuck alone and threaten to thy is his wheel chair at him
And then he said, have a coffee with me you disgruntled koonarri
And the disabled man was offended and held on to the fruit
Cupboard and leaped out and and tossed the wheel chair at the
Man and says nobody calls me a koonarri and gets away with it
And the man stood up in the wheel chair and told another customer to not be scared but the other customer wanted to
Call for shop security because this didn't look good at all
And the disabled man said ok the games up give me back my chair and the man said no, you tossed it in my direction and the disabled man said yeah because you wouldn't take no for an snswer
And the man said you drink coffee and I am willing to give you a free one and the disabled man said yeah but I don't want to have a coffee and the police came and arrested the man and gave the other man his wheel chair back and the disabled man
All this fuss over saying no to his coffee incursion
The man was cursing
But never saw the disabled man sgain

Because I’m never enough
for anybody,
which of course
isn’t true
But they tell me
that it is
and I trick myself
into believing them
I must be
the worst kind
of *******.

/ and there's me, sitting silently, fiddling with my beard, attempting to craft a trumpet by twisting the tip of it into a "zenith"... i'm sure there are many more useful things i could be doing... but then again: having subverted any interest in the world cup can keep you guessing... please please: can the croats lose, so i can see the english and french rekindle their 100 year war "friendship"?

there's always a first,
    notably with a message

   this video is unavailable
with Restricted Mode enabled.
    to view this video,
you will need to disable
Restrcited Mode,

   why would i even bother
enabling a Restricted Mode
concerning
   a video like

    loose canon: mystique
by lindsay ellis?

   i like the sound of her voice -
i mean -
     ****, better than watching
*******...
  
this is probably the first video
i've encountered
   that i: i didn't even enable
Restricted Mode

                             to begin with!

how do i disable,
   what i didn't, in the first place,
                                enable?!

it's a chick talking for crying
out-loud!
           what's wrong with a girl
talking (wait, what?
  girl is not a sexist slur because
i might "think"
    she's not mature?
                       can i just use
                           it to imply: cute?)

apparently no...
              brick's a brick type of scenario,
i have to somehow
succumb to the niqab curtain
                of "western" values?

thanks for allowing me a peek...
                        ******* tantalißing!

to also add:
       can't get any better than listening
to an anthropologist
            like ayidin paladin talk...

but even i know that my use of
the youtube algorithm
                     has, of lately, succumbed
to an exhaustion of
my "predictability":

                     so many fewer
connecting avenues of a music allowance...

mind you...
   i spotted a future harmonia
(pump *****) would be player
    on a warsaw tram...
     who wasn't a prof. gypsy stereotype...

i have to samsung appliances,
a dated laptop and a tablet...
internet connectivity
  "problems": the tablet acquires it,
the laptop doesn't...

i go to the box room and check
the reuter: three green lights...
   so this is a meta-problem?
pick up the she-cat
   and take to using scissors,
cutting out botanical
                      attaché-sez
    from the furr...

       the internet connection problem
solves itself....
    
  róże europy -
  kości czerwone, kości czarne

plays in the background:
i remember why i didn't take up
martial arts,
   instead taking to cycling
after being
kicked in the testicles
  and no one was invested
into making authentic law
obligations...

   apparently there are some,
who don't mind paying charon:
instead wrestling with
                 cerberus...
that limited comparison with a hydra...

really?
   that's why i spent bewildered by
schizophrenic internet connections of
a samsung products deviating from
the "grid"?
  making snippets of furr from
a she-cat silently infuriated by
botanical insurrections of:
                "passing on the seeds"?
why reconnecting my laptop access
to the grid?
           giving the router a 20 second
nap away from over-heating?

   there actually is a:
                   in between narrative...
fiddling with a belt buckle
(already detached from the actual
belt)
   with a pair of scissors
                unscrewing two bolts...
1st attempt: into the base
of the metal,
  2nd attempt:
     out of the sleeve...

              and then...
  coming from a parental construct
of exercising metallurgy:
  not having inherited it
  (due to a dying town) -

   that scent of iron, or any
kind of metal (for, "that" reason)
   rubbed off onto me...

i already made the leather into
something more than
lizard-boots,
      "arming" myself in
the pretty-piglet abstract
                 of a boxing glove,
   of the belt wrapped like a tefillin...

but the buckle "closure"?
   had to fiddle with the screws
in it
   with a pair of scissors,
intimidating
                         a screwdriver!

philosophy with a hammer,
genesis-circa nietzsche?
               hammer and the nail...
there's the second "face"
of the hammer...
   the face that easily pulls out
the nail...
          
find me a screwdriver as
synonym of scissors
                           to confess to a *****?