I’m taking control, making changes.
Some for the worst, others for the best.
I don’t like to evade or retreat.
My secrets are inconsequential.
I’m taking things into my own hands
- I kissed my therapist. On the lips.
Life is but a game of ‘Smash or pass’
and I hate waiting for ice cream.
“I like the way you move,” he said, “I like your skin.”
“It’s what people notice first” I admitted, “want to see it?”
Or maybe I dreamed that - I dream about him, sometimes. shrug
I think the helpless, astringent, professional intimacy fires me.
I want him to ask me about my jerkwater *** life, he has a concomitant
passport, but he never does. Isn’t that important - what about Freud?
What do you think you inherited from your parents? He asked.
“What a question!” I observed, “You mean genetically?”
“Come on,” he prompted, and I thought for a long minute.
“I have my mother’s impatience, her drive to succeed
and her thick blonde hair that seems to dry instantly.”
He nodded, indicating he liked where I was going.
“I have my father’s eyes, his flashing temper and flat chest.”
He chuckled, but I could tell he wanted me to stay serious.
“Then there’s my Stepfather (Step), he taught me humor,
patience and self-control - oh, and how to drive.”
He ****** on his pencil eraser and nodded.
He always blurs the line between performance and approval.
.
.
Songs for this:
Secrets (Your Fire) by Magdalena Bay
The Spot by Your Smith

I let go of control.

On one side are past traumas
The other side the audience
There's a mountain to explain, and attention spans are razor thin
So to cut the message across, brevity I'm told is key
You hold on to the edges of your seat
And I'm hiding behind me
The 'Me' is just a shell, inside it stuffed with things
conformity, smiles, fear of being judged
There's ego, pride and shame, illusion of control
and so the story goes:
there was pain, there was hurt
there was heart, and there was love

What's control
If not a need for love to show
Bring it up, blow it up
Nothing's ever good enough

Look at me so I can be free
It's the only way I know how to be me
If there is no mirror,
How can I see clearer?

Hold me tight, save me from
my inner fight
On my own, I just drown
every night.

I curse and swear
Light candles and **** away
But it never goes my way
So I keep putting on a play.

and when he told me
he’d **** himself if i left,
a part of me believed him.
a small stupid part of me,
foolish, young and naive,
wanted to believe that i’d meant that much
that the lack of my presence
would make his blood run cold,
leaking into the creases of the bathroom tiles.
if i left,
and he killed himself.
his blood would be on my hands
but unlike my blood on his,
this time it would be metaphorical
but would feel so much worse.

It’s amazing how an addiction, can grow,
Taking over the human mind, cell phones, televisions,
Computers, the largest ever, to attack, the human race.
Think about the past, television, was totally free,
They start to sucker you in, then they say, cable & satellite,
You pay a fee, there will be no commercials on your TV?,
Your water or gas bills, at your home, you pay for what, you use,
Everyday, to put things in prospective, your television, and sewer,
They charge what ever they want, for waste, no meter, that’s,
Twenty four hours a day, if your home or away. Then they took,
Over the cell phone business, the same people, if not, their bed partners,
How else could they, sync everything together, without your permission,
Any time, on any day? The make many think the cell phone is what,
Keeps them alive, many would be totally lost, with no screens to stare,
At, just for the average person, many hours, in one day.  Vacations,
Use to be a getaway, relax, Leave the phone at home, no way.
People store, more personal information on their phone, than,
They would discuss, with their best friend on any day,
It’s sad, to think humans trust, strangers, more than people,
Close to them, and pay them, and they have no responsibility,
If all of your information was stolen away. Many people,
Can share a home, car, even a pet, mind control,
Share a cell phone, no way!

The Original: Tom Maxwell © 02/11/2024 A.D.

Where is your Ok line?
Lay upon the asphalt of your tender life?

Does this line fall straight or
Wander like a rivers ebb?

Does your OK line look away from Native children of America forced to give up their language with a safety pin in their tongue?

Or does your voice remain silent, letting white paint on black dictate another's worth but your very own, into the hands of righteous power.

Does your OK line follow blindly with conformity from false prophets who seek to control your mind making it easy for you to turn away from suffering?

My OK line seeks for equality, self-determination, and soothing suffering
With my voice and pictures that will never be silenced in a democracy but will be sold to the highest bidder in a dictatorship.

How silence kills and you suffer less believing you are somehow more disserving. You are as equal as the stone stuck in the sole of your shoe.

Remember the discomfort is equal for all. That's the OK line. We are equal; stone, thorn, blade and heart. Bleed, but bleed less in company of a powerless generation who votes the OK line towards freedom of choice. None will be free from our last breath.