The joke was a fruit/crushed beneath the hand of the teller/in a surge of joy/it’s rich, ripe juices of spring flowing ceaselessly/raw bliss/ shimmering with mirth/and we don’t have to lower our bodies/and bite down to the core/to know it’s done it’s purpose on this world
i am composed
of rotten pomegranates
a rich stench of sweetness emanates from my pores
i am glistening, in my prime, about to free fall into my own undoing, like a flower slick with nectar
just waiting for the bees to swarm
reaching towards the sun
and, in vain, turning towards you instead
and i'm crumbling into desecration,
my honeyed blood churning
I swear my body is illuminated
I swear that i smell of flowers
and i know that i have reached the point of no return
so tear me,
your slender fingers
severing me from everything
everything i'm rooted in,
tear me away from the dark musk of earth
and fill your senses with my loosened aroma
as i fall away from grace
crumble into fire
and turn away from the sun one last time
my rage weeps from my pores,
it ruminates from my skin like the stench of *******:
the red blur,
spitting up sparks,
exhaling crescendos and
flailing; a dying fish/girl
a frenzied howl, screaming herself into existence
because the noise in her head is too loud,
because a dozen things are being pushed into her mouth
and she'd rather puke
that sit and swallow
i met you
in waves of song
a collective harmony that your heart played just for me
i stepped through the choruses sloshing across my feet
and saw you standing on an island alone
i stayed in the water watching your island
and at night we watched the same stars
burning brightly across the sky
and now i'm on dry land
and i'm the one with the SOS
This is an ode to Adderall,
that wonderful mixture of
and amphetamine sulfate capsules
that all combine together
to form a prescribable pill
questionably similar to the Schedule II controlled substance street drug
commonly refered to as "Speed."
This is an ode to the children
who are bundles of energy caged in a classroom
incapable of concentrating
on the miniscule tasks given to them
by pedagogical authorities that
promise societal success and economic happiness
to those who complete their work on time
without a fuss or a doubt as to why they're
filling in bubbles on paper in the first place.
The confused children who watch
as others with calmer brains
fixate eyes on textbooks
rather than out the window.
This is an ode to Society
deeming these individuals as broken
choosing to wound then medicate
rather than proliferate.
That took their inquisitiveness
and locked it in a book with the label "DISORDER"
stating that you will never be anything
unless you think and feel the same way we do.
And much like a mad doctor
lobotomizing those whom he thinks insane
they synthesized a pill
to dampen a torrential brilliance
allowing them to place their sedated children
back in the box where they belonged.
This is an ode to the college students
chained by academic standards
expected to excel towards great things
if only they reach that ethereal diploma.
The students who crave the artificial focus
the increased capacity for concentration
with the broadened spectrum of perception
the sense of purpose in the tedium
the ungodly ability to think clearly
and perform the meaningless tasks they expect of us.
The students who go through illegal means
to purchase said drug
to swallow or snort
and dive back into the mountain of responsibility
with a new found sense of productivity and motivation.
An ode to the students
unable to find purpose in studenthood
the ones who find more virtue in watching the sunset
burn clouds into firework oblivion
before then blessing us with uncritical night.
An ode to the students
who discover more education
in climbing to the top of a mountain
and yelling a nonsense decree of passion
just to watch the echo
bounce from shore to shore
in cathartic reverberation.
for which our pill
is the only possible manner
of assigning purpose to purposeless assignments.
These are the ones
who must binge
cram for days before
the big exams
going whole nights without sleep
The ones slowly cracking under the increasing pressure of academia
spending more time questioning why they must complete their homework
instead of actually completing it.
This is an ode to my brothers and sisters
who stand in horror at the mold we must fit into
crafted by an unknown unshakable entity.
The ones who lost the appeal of cookie-cutter success
in exchange for a small understanding
of the way things really work.
The cogs that twisted off the machine
and now sit lotus-posed in the corner.
My fellow birds with broken wings
still expected to fly.
My fellow carpenters expected to build their estates
yet not given the proper tools to do so.
The ones of cursed cold clarities
perfectly capable of clutching
those fifteen minutes of dynasty
yet refrain from doing so due to
the immaculate futility of it all.
This is an ode to a drug induced rant
that no one will read
the one that I chose to write
instead of doing my **** homework in the library
like a compliant student.
This is an ode to the pressure-oriented procrastinators
that delay and yet again delay
their petty necessary obligations due to purposeless and exhausted motivation.
Swallowing substances to summon some sort of incentive
to fill in the bubbles
and cater to the Society they find so confusing
the ones who only under influence of synthesized chemicals
find reason to squeeze into that culturebox
that cascades down a bumpy man-made conveyor belt
branding a diploma onto your forehead
injecting an occupation into your veins
transforming your pupils to dollar bill signs
demanding you breed children
to do the same as you have
and you'll never be happy unless you do these things
This is an ode to those who reside in the shadows
of our broken social system
and conjure up great conversations
pertaining to everything and nothing
that are as wonderful and necessary
as the prints of your fingers
caressing down a comfortable torso
just before the sun rises
the untouchable indescribable realizations of life and love
that are completely irrelevant in their eyes
but are entirely necessary for our survival.
This is an ode to the overwhelming feeling of love
greatly exacerbated by a pharmaceutical delight
whereupon connections with other humans
become both incredibly appealing and oddly magnetic
for a few electric hours.
The oxygenating satisfaction felt
the instance just after the small talk architecture masks
fall to the floor
and right before we put them back on.
This is an ode to the minutes before the amphetamine crash
where the world still doesn't make sense
but we briefly don't mind
because a few fleeting moments of energy and purpose
in this otherwise detestable confine of reality
are all you can really ask for
as you complete the assignments
then step outside
to smoke yet another cigarette (they're absolutely wonderful on Adderall try it some time it'll **** you slowly but then again what won't?)
only to witness our Sun
breeding fire clouds in the east
illuminating the Western Abyss into purple-gold spectral oblivion
and in consequence therefore
between puffs of a necessary cigarette
you grin to yourself in quiet victory.
This is an ode to misaligned priorities
to those who when walking to everimportant final examinations
think not of the curriculum beaten into their skulls
but take careful measure to step on every crack on the sidewalk
who stare not towards the future
but to the beautiful reflection reflecting back from the broken mirrors
that are the weary days and weary ways
of this curious existence.
To those when stepping into the absurd spotlight of Society
"Though I must play your game,
you will never win."
I took the adderall
because I thought
you wanted me
to be a machine. I didn't
like candy once you
got used to the way
your jaw locked and your
ears rang. Dear
academia, did you
see my face when you
read my GPA, did
you see the way I stayed
up too late after my
after school activities
trained me to live with
anxieties? Dear academia,
why am I afraid of the mirror?
Why did you teach me how
to write a perfect paper but
never prepared me for
the look in his eye when he told
me he didn't love me either. Dear
academia, i'm ******* and you're
swallowing me, does the sting
of your impulses feel better
when you know you're eating
my hard earned money?
Dear academia, why
do you give me empty promises? Why
should I spill my blood with
this diploma, list
my ethnicity and birthdate
next to the insignificance
of what you think makes me
these details feed your
impending due dates or
are you just getting off
to the idea that
only the educated few
know how to
think straight? Dear
I tried my hardest
to let you fool me, I
can feel your ego fattening
beside me as I watch your
children scramble for their
ideas of monetary
gluttony. You're increasing
our wage gaps, do my late night
tears fuel your addiction to epistemic
poverty? Dear academia, you
taught me to think critically. I am on fire
with the matches you forgot
you hatched within
me. Scorpions occasionally
eat their parents and I hate
to admit that this ****
has me hungry.
Autumn is forgiving.
Its gentle gullet sways,
still as a water closet
withholding the wind.
Its nostrils flare
but never shudders.
Its brittle soil yields at first touch
It takes in tubers and roots
an enveloping kindness,
and lets the rain pour,
gushes into the all clear.