I wanted to sign up for the game after hearing enough
but there were some questions you had to ask first:
Am I human or horde?
Do I want to fight the environment or other players?
I said I'd rather go against the other players
before all the peacebloom and nightshade is farmed
and everyone has to download the cataclysm expansion
your jubilant response to the macabre alerted cautious receptors
asking me to join your alliance to fight the horde
because if I'm not on your side I'm undead or a troll
some bloated tauren or greedy goblin
even though there are plenty of healers on that side
you're more concerned with damage per second
because you're consumed by World of Warcraft
so I said I was more interested in Plants vs. Zombies
which I mistook for Call of Duty
you said you don't play mobile games
and the best games end in yelling at your computer
because you don't need to know where a pixel comes from
in order to **** the bad guys.

I want to be part of society
I want to have proper propriety
but I feel woeful worry inside of me
in the form of anxiety.

What will they think?
What will they say?
Would they even blink
if I told them I’m gay?
Or would peace be betrayed
by the revelation I made?

My thoughts are hurried
because I’m too worried
they come in a flurry
vision obscuring.

It’s a slow grind
in this snowblind
I don’t know why
I can’t grow wise
so my nose finds
blow lines
until I glow like
a strobe light
turning on and off
like Jared Goff
because apparent cops
who share my slop
scare to stop
my stairs to the top
so I get impaired and flop.

The only person not allowing me
to share my personality
is myself acting cowardly
fearing they’ll respond sourly
I want someone to empower me
so I can conquer this task towering.

The job is wrangling
a constant cascade of containers
filled with everything I can imagine
some totes more full than others
on a never ending conveyor belt
all must go to their appropriate cart
softer objects like clothing go on top
while the hardline items go to the bottom.

Unloading these bundles
becomes a tedious tennis match
where the score remains the same
stuck playing a familiar game
every tote must be dealt with
before they start piling up
and lights start shining
as everything shuts down.
I scan the baskets; I scan the carts
never letting items drift apart
crossguard meshing prevents spillage
the contents pressure the straps
I'm always expecting a collapse.

Once a particular cart has been filled
I push it away and carry back a new cart
to be filled with new items of the same nature
I hope people get the things they need
but every day something else breaks
every day something goes missing
those customers will have to wait
on me to do better next time
I hope I can too
I don't want to be taking
the same orders for
the rest of my life.

Religion is like wrestling when it was kayfabed
The kind of immersive storytelling that is A grade
We became trapped
In the Walls of Jericho
Separated on the map
From the fields of marigolds
Shinier things catch our eye
Like Goldust in the ring
Not of Mankind
But McMahon's kind
We start to see behind the Big Show
Until they introduce the Boogeyman
Manipulating until progress is slowed
All according to plan

Jake the Snake offers the apple to Eve
And into calamity we are cleaved
This was something I never agreed
But Christian pushes me to Edge
No room in discourse to hedge
Swanton bombs fall in cities
The Million Dollar Man cracks a smile
Unable to feel pity
The billions of bodies start to pile
And I haven't seen the Hart Foundation in a while

These ideas pin us down
And we can't kick out
We end up indifferently submitting
To the Big Boss Man
A legacy we're cementing
Like the Ku Klux ****

I'm from Kentucky
Where biology is taught in the context
Of where it fits in with Christianity's teachings
I wonder how many people this knowledge is reaching
When we're trapped in Wrestlemania
We cheer for the Undertaker's victory
Because we're constantly wrestling with demons
Transcendence is only something we can dream of

Yin/yang
order/chaos
discipline/freedom
cops/robbers
inescapable paths are familiar routes
subjectivity shrouds relation
reciprocation obfuscated by morality
relativism is an ocean the lost can drown in
but those who are properly equipped can see below the surface
until industrious capitalist tycoons spill oil
then it's a matter of faith swimming through blackened waters
oily ripples turn into waves
continuously crashing into itself
the sludge mixes into a consistent composition
the ocean gets a little darker.

I’m worried for my country and myself.
Microscopic maybes master my maze.
The undead use the unborn to fight the living.
If I were a zygote would they love me more?
I guess what could be is more appealing than what is.