Machine ground days
Somehow survived by clinging to precarious plans
Die for those.
For proles are stuck in a televised gleam
but I’m barred from distractions
I’m a man of action
Spring healing:
I found a new hope to get through the day
It has a name and it’s you

Workday: animistic curses
against people and their systems and products
except animals would escape forever
as soon as they open the cage
but we stay

The beastly gnashings of overworked merchandisers
for invisible self pocket stuffers
The competition's getting to us, comrades
I feel swindled out of my labor
I was pregnant
but they sold my child before
I woke up

Addressing the solipsism of my rehab circle:

I’m Kagey, and my life is hazy
but, blunted or no, let’s get this clear:
don’t trust your senses
and that goes for all my human peers

Body is a cage full of defenses
Still, I’m suspicious of reality
whether it’s façade society
or the wooden chair in front of me

Still, I enjoy the virtual scenery
I ain’t talking about on the T.V. or phone screen
I mean the willows, buildings, and faces
But all these mushy green acres are fakers
blobs without our eyesight

Still tho,
me and the universe are tight.

A lady asked me today if I could give her a discount
On the **** she was buying
Because she had already spent so much at my establishment.
And I just nodded my head and ******* agreed
Even though inside I was screaming.
Because, *****, I didn't ask to save all those lives I did,
I didn't originally
Feel the need to talk the world out of suicide.
But I subscribed for the long run
And ******* myself over
Because I've got men grovelling at my feet
But they're all doped up on Xanax.
So take your ******* discount and
Shove it up your ***
Because you earned it.
But somehow I still haven't
Earned my day of peace.
Imagine if he was better at timing
And jumping?

I'm trying not to shop till I drop,
                                                     Help
                                                          
                                                            
                                                                      Me !!!!!!!

It’s all laundry and cigarettes

White-knuckle odd jobs

And freezing your *** off, at 7 AM, to

Help your buddy out

Breaking and bleeding, and

Smoking and shirtless, and

Spinning your finger and thumb

Counter-clockwise until the

Resulting ring of fire and fury can

Torch your inhibitions

No one ever restricted you from

Rioting with grace

And through the windshield of your vision,

The streets wake up to the smell of

Alcohol and experience

It’s all rubble in dumpsters, and

Spray paint that swears 

Oaths, to bands and bandages

Singing the praises of 

Stolen promises, their swiftly

Prying minds can’t understand

And you’re standing

In front of the truck

Arms outstretched

Pistons firing air through your

Organs, that vibrate with the

Trepidation of nightmarish resolve

It’s all battlefields and accomplices,

The kid that kicked you down so,

That you’d eat the dirt,

Place your teeth in

Leather pouches,

And taste defeat for decades

You’re pleasantly high on the 

Smoke of your still-burning debt

You’re a supermarket superhero

You’re the queen of the Gasoline Dream

It’s in the way that

Your outline is

Edged out

By your insides, and the

Arms of the chair have become

Wings, that unfurl over

Valleys and oceans, of headstones,

And nursery wards

Tinted windows promise nothing

Regarding secrecy of soul

What would your wisdom teach me

About sentience?

Here’s to girls who laugh at your jokes 

And don’t want you to **** yourself. 

Here’s to the grind, and all it’s soul-*******. 

Here’s to weasels, and

Possums and rodents of all sorts.

Commence, the hallucinations of

Cream-colored wheat fields, and 

Their straw guardians, 

Harkening to the inept and 

The inadequate, to try their product.

It’s why their older stuff is better, 

It’s why the alternative is the standard, 

Because you’re too **** much 

Like everybody else, 

And inside, it’s killing you.

Like every spelling mistake you 

Forgot to correct, and every 

Fallen soldier, with pop-top wounds, 

Whose blood, you never lapped up. 

Buzz-to-Buzz.

You can’t play the victim, when you’re 

Already the villain.
And the “S” on your chest doesn’t

Stand for your name.
You can try, but anyone with 

The good decency to wear

Sunglasses can see through you.

And then the acid kicked in. 
And
The amusement park of your 

Unimaginable, becomes obvious. 

And there’s a leather belt wrapped around 

Your restrained eyes, lest their be any 

Burglars, out to climb through those windows.

When you’d rather scar up your 

Arms than let them be the 
Better half of an embrace. When the 

Clouds are a few more shades of 

Gray darker than they were the
Day before. When your life is as 

Disposable as your coffee cup 

Or your college education, 

Come find me.

The entitled ones:

Snotty, stuck up, rude

Nasty, spoiled prudes

Your misery, their fun



Loosen up your buns, entitled ones

‘Cause I am in no mood

To harbor your attitude

And snooty snippy sayings sung



The desk between us that which divides

Does not right you to be snide

Entitled ones need not apply

Entitled are entitled nigh



The ones who earn entitlement

Are the ones who give respect

Possessors of this enlightenment

Such respect is what they’ll get



Treat your servers as you will with such level of pomposity

But understand that I abide by way of reciprocity