My hairline is receding
my care line is receding
I'm a feline proceeding
up the wall to hit the ceiling
of what I've been feeling
which should have me reeling
but my blood is quickly congealing
thanks to this art I've been stealing
from the vault in my mind
that's guarded at all times
except when words on lines
crack the code's design
and redefine
what it means to be alive.

All movies are predictable
after I've seen them.

I analyze the plot
and think of all the different possible outcomes
and if those outcomes are wrong nobody cares
but if one of my thoughts were correct
then your movie is predictable
and therefore bad.

I may be missing out on key subtext
like themes or symbolism
but I can't miss a chance to virtue signal
my own intelligence
which is higher than that of the filmmaker.

Maybe I shouldn't go into a movie
with a "you better impress me" attitude
while constantly trying to predict what's next
because maybe having a negative mentality
might affect my viewing experience negatively
or maybe amusement parks are more for me
but I still want to have an opinion
even on things I don't understand or care about
so I treat art like a math test
rather than an empathy building endeavor.

Predictability is a valid criticism for a movie
but every movie that's found a large audience
has been called predictable by someone
but when I say it it's true because I'm smart
or perhaps all movies are predictable
especially after I've seen them.

I've never made a movie
but if I did
you wouldn't be able to predict
exactly how ****** it would be.

I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of
but I can't be tied to those forever
so people forgive and forget
I try to forget but still feel bad
and I know there are still sore subjects
that I should be sensitive about.

Scrolling through Reddit I see a post
of Māori students at an airport
greeting their returning teacher
with a traditional Māori war dance
which was an admittedly sweet gesture
but something didn't sit right with me.

I wondered why the students greeting their teacher
had to do so through a display of militaristic nationalism
I wondered if that was the last dance the Moriori people saw
before the Māori genocided them for their resources
I wondered if the Māori danced like that
as they *****, murdered, and cannibalized the Moriori.

Wondering all of this made me ask myself:
Why did they have to greet their teacher like that?
The students wanted to make a big gesture
which dancing is perfect for
but dancing can also be vulnerable and embarrassing
because people may mock how you express yourself

but strangers at the airport are less likely to laugh at you
if you're doing a synchronized dance with a group of people
and the dancing is recognizably tied to national identity
because then it's a culturally rich dance
you're a xenophobe for laughing at
and that's what nationalism is:
strength in numbers and a readymade identity
in lieu of an individual personality
oftentimes for the sake of pistanthrophobia.

So as I read the circlejerking comments on the post
I wondered what the difference is between
a Māori war dance and a **** salute
I guess the Māori people have experienced
more oppression than Nazis
but nationalism is nationalism
and those who have oppressed are oppressors
and many who are oppressed would gladly
be oppressors given the chance.

Nationalism isn't healthy for culture
and often isolates people from other cultures
that are all combining due to globalization
which people fight to preserve their little dances and costumes
so we can stay in eternal conflict over delusions of supremacy
when the only nationality should be a global one.

If you're so good at acting like a good person
why can't you just be a good person?

Is it because you don't feel like trying
or are you trying not to feel?

You need to get out there
so out there gets you.

Others will always have things to say
as you will have things to say of others.

I hope you prove them wrong
before you prove them right

and show them who's best
without becoming the worst.

It makes me sad how angry I am
it's so bad I'm god ******
the slaughter of God's lamb
by the knife in God's hand
hatred's supply and demand
is all I understand
when sexuality creates insanity
in this putrid life handed to me
with God not answering
my prayers for Him to take my eyes
instead He just took my hands
so now I can't stop staring at guys
who don't think I'm a man
and I can't fight back with no arms
so I must stand there and take harm
from people in God's garb
and wire that is barbed.

If being without love makes one numb
how come I feel every time I'm stung?
Especially now that swords are guns
and this life's rewards are none
just a scoreless run
to a finish line before a cliff
I pray there is something to lift
me away from my earthen crypt
but I've found only rage
and in that my sorrow
banging in my cage
but wanting to see tomorrow
looking for anything to follow
I can't take pills hard to swallow
so I float like the thirteenth Apollo.

Wallowing in an empty room
pouring alcohol in the wound
feeling doomed like I'll die soon
in my lonely loft
developing a covid cough
from those who scorn and scoff
and won't *******
telling me to look to God
when that's how my arms were sawed
into illegal shotguns
living this life is not fun
so everyone around me got shot some
which is just part of God's **** poor potluck
my hands must be in there somewhere
so I just keep crawling upstairs
even though it's unfair
my hands must be stolen back
from a god dressed in black
who took my palms but let me see
without knowing how to be
I just bite the hands that bleed
until I'm too full to breathe
and watch God laughing casually.

This week I want to be a rapper
so enjoy me repeating what everyone else says
as I resume my desperate journey for clout:
I come from the place I was born in
it made me tougher due to being a violent environment
stemming from socioeconomic conditions that continue to be neglected
but even though people born in these conditions usually end up poor
I did not because I'm a special individual
who admittedly sold drugs in the past
but now I have legitimate revenue streams
and thus no longer have to sell drugs
and can still buy plenty of expensive commodities
like cars and shoes and jewelry
so of course the combination
of my new worth and the public's awareness of me
leads to a plethora of opportunities for ****** *******
which is a lot of fun
like the drugs I do if I so choose
because my insulated social circle
condones and supports such activities
but there are people who don't appreciate my modality
you may or may not be one of them
but I don't care what you think (as long as you're listening)
because I believe your opinion is affected
by your jealousy of my material possessions and lifestyle
which I don't think is fair because you aren't aware
of the totality of my experience
or how my financial success is equivalent
to the amount of labor I produced
therefore I choose to disregard your negative opinion henceforward
because I'm compelled to follow my own determination
for what's suitable for me
which is rapping about hopping out the 'rari
and how you can't play me like Atari
over trap drums and magnums
you can't hear me say I'm sorry.

I am charcoal cooking out for the summer
loading boxes into a freight truck
like coals into the furnace
powering America's materialist engine
the boxes rising like greed
until I've filled that truck's needs
exiting the trailer smoldering
like a coal in the furnace
powering corporate production
steam is all that rises as I melt into the ground
trucks leave like emissions into the air
obstructing my vision as I gaze down the street
through the haze of summer streaks
another truck approaches for repeat
a microwave set to reheat.