When water became water, not lemon and lime,
I drank for the pleasure, not to pass time.

When bread became bread, not pizza and cake,
I'm hearing my stomach, and it needs a break.

When danger becomes danger, not fear on a screen,
I stopped checking corners for foes unseen.

When fire becomes fire, not mirrors and smoke,
my friends sit together, and nurture our hope.

When food becomes famine, and future unknown,
we'll treasure our friends, instead of our homes.

Horizon of heard words bring
feelings
new and relieving
receiving
messages from myself
to be passed to someone else.

Like birth I breathe my
first lesson
in learning a new obsession.
A whole new world
completed by curiosity
and only in generosity of voice
was I shown the choice we each make
to hide and to fake
to fear that we are
no more than animals with complex speech
and we reach desperately to find
some notion that we are tools
but in truth we are without rules
and can experience as much as we are willing to believe.

I stabbed myself in the face today.
Not literally.
With a bouquet of flowers.
I like to smell them. It was nice.
Pumped my self with drugs.
Sugars and oils and processed blood.
I'm pretty sure it effects my functioning.
Too much and you can't move.
And when I lie there, I see the roof.
It's blank. No one looks at it because it's blank.
It's blank because no one looks at it.
And I stare at that roof and of course, it stares into me.
We connect, we understand.
And I load up the laptop and sit there for days.

Oh well. Who am I harming?

The people I see, the young and the free
They dance and they sing in blissful retreat.
Their lives are a sample of pure liberty
And mine an example of firmly fixed feet

I grew up alone, in this I am blessed
I know of the darkness and it knows me best
My friends I found waiting beside the far lights
I wouldn't have seen them without those dark nights.

I feel like the fuse has already burnt.
The engine backfired, old meat past expired
I feel like a liar, pretending to be, pretending to see
what it is they believe they are doing
with their endless consumption and moving
their only function, save but to breathe
is to make our lives harder, or enforce beliefs.

The reality is, its in human nature
to skip the sad memories of our bad behaviour
and think of the times when we looked our best
convince ourselves that we're flawless and blessed.

I won't have such good memories, for I hid in the dark.
Shade like and skinny, and spared any romance.
It's hard to see evil that's basking in light.
So wait for the night and they'll dance, and they'll melt, and you'll see,
those good memories weren't made by people like them.
They were made by people like me.

I lost touch
with
my to-do list
only to find
myself
found
in my
to-live
list

Fight the algorithms
that tell us what to do,
to make us predictable,
unoriginal and bankable.

Have you witnessed how
increasingly bland and homogenous
our lives are becoming?

Choose freedom
avoid the diaries of commerce
that riff on the ubiquity of apps

resist the reductive tropes
of our published and circulated,
perspective customer identities.

Fight the algorithms
with their embedded backlot
familiarity, built around class
and consumerism.

Try to understand the
vague, inscrutable and
purposefully circuitous.

Or stop overthinking
and embrace liberating surrender.
That’s the path I’ve chosen.
.
.
Broken People by The Narcissist Cookbook
Talk Down Dijon

Ladies and gentlemen!
Step right up, step right in!
We’ve got deals for your dreams,
Sales on your soul—act fast, this offer won’t last!

It’s happening on Sunday, SUNDAY, SUNDAY!
We’re selling you purpose in bite-sized packets—
One-click, no mess, shipped express to your door.
Swipe right for self-worth,
Streamlined and sterilized,
Shrink-wrap with lies so tight
The freedom will explode out yer eyes.
They package the itch, they sell you the scratch,
A feedback loop of greed for **** you really don’t need
Until the pixels whispered: “maybe you’re incomplete?”
“Hey, no need to worry”, the advertisement assures
An app we’re making just for YOU, madam and/or monsieur!
I can’t help but sigh, and look away
“Another fkn monthly fee? Hmmmm, you don’t say…”

BUY NOW, THINK LATER!
Why wait and feel like trash?
Hurry up and upgrade, ya know, while supplies last?
Planned obsolescence will take you down in a flash.
Just keep’a running, like they’ll always do for your cash.

Your neighbor’s new car gleams like a mirror—
Not to admire, but to reflect what you lack.
Your happiness, monetized and momentarily delayed—
Don’t worry, we’ve got some payment plans for that.
Zero down, zero peace of mind, their hooks sink deep,
Probably looking for bodies, dragging lakes of our sleep
Bought a map for self-contentment, but the route’s under construction,
A platinum premium membership’s the only way it’ll function.

But wait! There’s more.
A lifestyle that screams success—
Filtered faces, curated meals, personalized workouts; THE BEST!
Illusion of choice sold on 118 labels, cleverly selling the same ****
Act now, and FREE for 30 days, you can try new nootropics!

They built the hunger and fed it back to us—
“Don’t be stagnant, don’t be still”,
Won’t be happy, can’t be fulfilled.
In this first world, first in line,
First to implode under the weight of wanting most.
Can’t feel gratitude when ads remind us—
Happiness is only on subscription, anymore.

BUY NOW, THINK NEVER!
They’ve got your thoughts on lease.
Run faster, climb higher,
Consume until you’re deceased!
Fkn, ***—BAG… IDIOTS!

They omit to mention, understandably so
Success for them is leaving us in the dark
By that logic it makes sense that they’re “all out of stock”
Self-worth is increasingly getting harder to hauck.
Still we gather, in hopes to support each other in some way
Right here, right now, a never ending ****** Sunday, Sunday, Sunday…
(I wrote this on a Sunday, btw)

my father is telling me last night he dreamt he was telling the neighbours to install a shining privacy screen. my mother is telling me she dreamt about doing her taxes. “hand over your documents” the man said. she’s telling me how it was a different man, and how he really should have already had their documents, and i’m just sitting here thinking ‘if my dreams ever get this boring, please shoot me’. i don’t want domestic fantasies. i am not my father. my father’s only son is the house we live in. i am not allowed to touch the walls. i am not my mother. i do not care if my surfaces shine or not. i am not my parents. i do not want a government job. i do not want a sterile house. i don’t like ikea furniture. i still have dreams about zombies and my friends and war the ocean and i never want that to go away.

A feather from the prettiest crow
Hiding under rocks, leafs and puffy snow
Give all, less or a piece to let go
A soul to let me borrow
Homemade masterpiece, no less or further more
Crafting deep within his inner core
Between his eyes an arrow and a bow
Underneath the mask a cute puppy show
Candles with an intense eager grow
Waiting to unleash the secret below
Thousands of lights like a dazzling rainbow
I’m screaming loudly in high falsetto
No sound, no music, like a mute radio
Can’t even feel my thoughts flow
For everything I’ll just throw
Flower buds, chocolate and expensive espresso
Missing something I can’t get in Moscow
Poems of memories that I owe
Suppressed devotion with tears falling slow
A heart with no depth is just halow