I'm tired of being told what to believe in, and what matters in life. Constant bombardment of stimuli, telling me what makes an artist, what good art is, who to elect, what to wear, what cause to take up. I already have my 20/20 vision, had it checked, verified, took it beyond the threshold and came back sans t-shirt. I don't need someone giving me the play by play 24/7 when I can already see this world, unfiltered and pure as it is.  I could mystify this sentiment further by adding in abstractions and platitudes signifying nothing, but I don't feel the need for my catharsis to waste anyone's time. You don't need me giving you advice anymore than I need advice or commentary.  I don't need backseat drivers or neologistic buzzwords and fortune cookie wisdom shoved down my throat to taste comprehension.  I know what I want. I'm not ashamed of that.  I grew up knowing only self doubt, and it would appear the Millennial M.O. is to float through life praising the "art" of self doubt. As if it is something worthy of praise to be crushed externally and internally, instead of working towards bolstering from within.  With the chaos of the modern era, systemic inequity, and politics as a fashion statement, I keep my inclinations for the most part buried until my voice reaches beyond masturbatory passive aggressive self aggrandizement.  It is hip to give a ****. But that's the problem.  Giving a **** has been reduced to a fashion statement, it's how we decide who we let in, who we talk to, who we ****, who we praise. If you keep up the right front you can make superficial fair-weather friends do for you.  Therein lies an acquiescence to societal woes and whims that counter-cultural kids always know exists in the back of their minds with a beleaguered smirk and a reminder to themselves that they're really just playing the part as they clock in to their jobs and message their friends about anarchy.  It's all a big game, depending on who you are determining what kind of game it is. Some people play the lottery and leave their existence up to chance because it's all they know.  Some people play a mean game of poker and act like they've got enough ability to bluff their way through this knowing they've got nothing stacked.   My game is chess.  I don't tell anyone what moves I'm planning, but I'm five moves ahead and I'm aiming to topple ****. I have to, it's the only thing that drives me, keeps me motivated. Self doubt is praised as a tool to spur on growth.  I don't need to doubt myself in order to grow, I have had enough people doing that for me.  Until I reach a precipice, until I have unmade myself and pushed beyond what anyone, (myself included) deems me capable of, I am an unreliable narrator, and my voice will carry no weight.

You want true expression, and true honesty

Or so you claim

You don't want the heat that comes with a call for the flame

You don't want to be enveloped in the purity of anyone

I hear you ask for honesty, and I know you don't want it

You want facsimiles, you want approximations, but truth is not for you

We have ego strokes, crutches, blinders, confused priorities

We have people set in their ways, and idealists lacking perspective

I want truth, I want life to blossom unfiltered, raw, and untouched

But if we can't even agree on medicines for diseases

If we can't even agree on who to let live

who to nurture

what to be upset about

Who to feed

When the answers are clearly spelled out

How do you expect me to feel like you even want truth?

Stop (STOP)

and let your head talk

All I see is blocked

By the strictures and pictures of myself

(All is clear

Have no fear

Own Your Mind

Just this time)

(Oh) If it's a question of a doubt

There ain't a shadow thereabout

Fear is a Silhouette I found

Always behind me (Oh)

In My View Is All I Knew to Look For

Ascension trumps Deception

See the whole score

Dropped (Off) from the post hoc

All I need is bound

By the strictures, and pictures of myself


Drop off from the post hoc

Stop stop, let your head talk

No blocks, of this I sought

One shot, and eyes on the clock (We go)

Drop off from the post hoc

Stop stop, let your head talk

No blocks, of this I sought

One shot, and eyes on the clock

(Oh) If it's a question of a doubt

There ain't a shadow thereabout

Fear is a Silhouette I found

Always behind me (Oh)

In My View Is All I Knew to Look For

Ascension trumps Deception

See the whole score

Own Your Mind

Just this time.

Self Righteous indignation, separation, and a flare for othering

the man who strove to bridge the gap between himself and the world

made himself an island to be safe from the chaotic trade winds

Here, he felt, hell, he felt stronger than he was accustomed to

but this only tempered his approach

kept his destructive tendencies at bay

and filled his time

His ennui and his thirst for consequence

His self deprecation, his lust for power, his empathy unbidden

He knew of his own privilege, he knew other's pain was greater than his

He knew other's success, and had tasted glory in doses unsatisfying

He was meant to be satisfied with stagnation

and was tailored to disapprove of the play by play

but was forced to place bets on the rat race

and to have his mind occupied by symbolism

while he realized the cross was only two lines placed adjacently

He was forced to explain to his lover, what love means, and how to believe

What it meant, how it was, and why it was held in such high regard

He comforted an ailing cherub, watered her roots with his own excretions

For in appeasing her, he cut into himself

All he wanted was to be big enough, to cut himself down enough

that when he gave of himself, he could give what would have been his all

while still holding on to what could be all he was.

Ebola Sars and ***, sounds like a big deal to me

Isis recruits Australians, Russia bombs Ukrainians

Economic bubble crash is starting to give me a rash

Tumblr just gets really mad when you say a word they think is bad

Hyper fervent slactivism causing me a social schism

Picking up the pieces of a shattered governmental system

Cliches of a topic piled up into a rhyming pattern

Pundits pumping such hot air they might as well just move to Saturn

Tumblr just gets really mad when you say a word they think is bad

Post Modern kids all broke it down as something they could
deconstruct

Idealists will polish turds, while cynics just don't give a ****

Focus on your social status, eating healthy, getting hotter

Better drink my own ****, cause we're quickly running out of water

Tumblr just gets really mad when you say a word they think is bad