My apathy is disgusting!

I think?

I like big boys
With clean shaven faces
And ***** insides,
With genuine common sense
And half a working mind.
I like them psychotic
So they can chase after me
To the end of their arms,
To the clasp of their firm fingers
Holding me tight like
The wind holds a tree
In its aimlessly violent grasp.

You don't look like I know you should; your clothes, your hair, your body and your accessories speak to a culture that I do not understand.
I'm not even sure I want to.

Before you cry hate realize that I am not speaking to the colour of your skin; pigment has zero relevance to the way you were raised, the friends you chose or who you are as you stand before me in this modern society.

The alien I find in you are the choices you've made, or rather the very few choices you've made as you've allowed the flavours of the masses to salt your very being, laying the foundation for the same row houses on each block, 'we' nothing more than automations that turn right, vote left and drive straight on into the witless death of 'our' meaningless life. Group hug.

I obviously am not talking about you; you read this poem and judge it unworthy or not and write your own birthing thoughts not yet authored, cutting yourself free from the tether of normality making the awakening of social consciousness possible.

Or perhaps I'm just another ******* on the train wearing awesome golf pants coming back from the game that takes more than it gives griping about life and those that don't live it or love it.

Let me talk about love...
that thing I want in life.
Let me speak about it,
like,
I don't have it,
when I do have it.
Just not that type.
Let me not whisper about it, okay?
Let me just talk, and just listen
don't say.

A word.
I want it so badly.
I want it today.
I want it right now.
And that is okay, because everyone does.
Everyone wants it.
Everyone needs it, as a matter of fact.

And this it that I speak of
is of mutual kind
a mutual deep, crazy,
love.
a one that is rich
is real and is blind.
A love that is lovely beyond all beauties and time
A love that does not factor seconds
into the spaces it lives
no it is timeless
and priceless and
gives


These loves they will tear you to shreds if their gone.
These loves will leave spaces like open black stars.

Time will make its new home in your scar.
And kiss you till death,
till you live to love again.

Let me tell you. My love?
Let me tell you again.

Love is your enemy. Love is your friend.

I sit here and type
while
the sounds of alcohol
dribble in
through the netting
of my screen.
The pseudo-intellectual noise
of the painfully stupid
absolutely
infiltrates.

I sit here and type
while
I wait
for the camel to burn.
For his blue feet
to go up in
small,
mighty embers.
Resisting their
ultimate
culmination.

I sit here and type
while
my cat blinks at the
iridescence of nothing;
glinting
in it's
all-encompassing
emergence.
The invisible fields;
designs of the
archaic.

I sit here and type
while
realities flatten
in lives
everywhere.
Tragedy unfolds
upon more
tragedy;
leaving no
survivors,
no triumph.

I sit here and type
while
the Oroboros
eat their own tails;
solidifying their
eternal return
and
cyclicality.
Serpents,
in movements
of blindness;
displaying their
ever-lasting existence.

I sit here and type
while
domesticated peoples
everywhere
bypass the phenomena
that is,
our humanity.
Giving in to
temporal compression;
eyes bandaged.

I sit here and type
while
nothing in particular happens.
The terminally mad
go mad,
the desperate prisoner
remains imprisoned,
the lipstick stains
the mouth
and we all
go on,
as if we weren't
the wiser.

i spend most of my time crying and listening to the same ******* front porch step song and it's ironic because the song is called drown and that's exactly what i want to do and i can't tell if i want to drown in an ocean or drown in you but i guess they both come with the exact same feeling because i am suffocating either way