i read stories of angry drunks and wonder:
           why am i so "pathetic" reading into calm?
don't know... truths by a millionaire
might make more sense...
mix ***** with coke watch
the icecubes melt and then take another
sip and it's harsh, pinching like
a crab's signature...
         but then alcohol formulates
around me like a memory tool,
gone are the lessons of school,
      gone the need for arithmetics that
lead to no hoard of gold of erebor -
just that cinema and standstill -
   like my genesis of memory,
  with a great-grandfather in kindergarten
him playing the piano and me playing
a toy piano aged 4, and in my memory
he representing no clear image
but a mere shadow / merely a shadow...
               or laughing at my great-grandmother's
funeral, then sitting up at night
   gnashing my teeth so hard
until i managed to bite off a piece of my
left mandibular central incisor...
         and in the mourning crowd
  when close family members were throwing
flowers into the grave unearthed
and being asked to do likewise
i shouted no!...
                      and took the intended flower
to be thrown into the grave
   to my grandparent's home and sat there
with a candle, gently burning
     the petals with the flame until
the petals, originally red, turned purple;
it seems i can't forget my education in chemistry,
that's not me saying i prefer thought "experiments",
i find them abhorring,
             it's still perplexing how that rose
that was intended to be thrown into the grave of my
great-grandmother ceremoniously
     turned purple from red when gently
applying fire from wax...
        i'm sure a bunsen burner flame of blue
flame would have scortched it...
    as i'm sure you agree, there are hues
to fire, blue flames and very engaging chemical
experiments... in all honesty?
   i did the best chemical experiment in school
and not at university... thanks to mrs. khan...
it involved extracting polyethylyne
in an in vitro environment...
               what you might call an event horizon
akin to physics...
                    oh physics, and the fact that
it's focus on procuring adherents does not stand
within an in vivo environment they propose
to speak about it...
          oddly enough, chemistry does not
popularise itself, only biologists and physicists
popularise themselves,
         chemists usually turn into amphetamine
pushers...
  like: because it began with a ****** name
     and an even ******* primate, do i care?
no... i'm getting drunk!
  why do physicists and biologists get the *******
high-ground in culture and chemists get
the sub-culture? oh right... poetry and
the counter-culture...
      i own the literature:
a. atkins' physical chemistry
          b mcmurry's organic chemistry
c. shriver & atkins' inorganic chemistry...
   from experience though:
    organic chemistry is where you have fun...
it's almost culinary in nature,
   and the patience involved...
sometimes an experiment can last for days...
i find the other two environments too sterile,
well... inorganic chemistry is spectacular,
i'll just add that it's flamboyant...
             physical chemistry is a ******* graveyard,
that **** is so sterile that you don't
   even know whether it's physics or just
applied mathematics...
               but how electrons travel in
organic chemistry's textbooks?
            i could do that **** for ever -
                    the nearest thing to x-ray vision
of what is formed and how it all seems like
quasi-robotics of something taking off a faulty
limb and asking for a more manageable counterpart,
it's all metaphor though, evidently not literally
applicable...    but that doesn't say it's not similar
in the case of having such a point of view...
  but yeah... why do biologists and physicists
think they can speak about their theories
  as populists might speak their political agenda
when they're forgotten the principum in vitro?
                 what they are doing is what
current right-wing political movements are doing,
giving them a platform akin to populism
     i.e. via the principum in vivo...
                    i mean it's there, including chemists
running amok shoving toothpaste and petrol down
peoples' lifestyles... and sure, pills...
    but i find that less demeaning than showing
ideas into peoples' heads... like it might
       change their narrative skills for the better...
still...
        now i'm tempted to find the third alternative
to vitro / vivo...
                               in mirror, a replica,
    something that can compensate the phenomenological
groundwork for, say, the punk or goth movement...
     trouble is, what could be resurrected from latin
to derive the word mirror...
     mercury?                           it has to be,
given in silico, so there must be a counter-elemental
derivative working from that...
thus -                                             in mercurius,
     that ought to prescribe the x            definiton
     to a situation                  where + is rarely
                       attributed to the movement of the canvas;
and yes, writing can also imply
serving the dish neglect to all wordly affairs.

depression does not always mean
beautiful girls shattering at the wrists.
a glorified, heroic battle for your
sanity.
or mothers that never got the chance
to say goodbye.

sometimes depression means
not getting out of bed
for three days
because your feet
refuse to move, in fear
that they will shatter on impact
to the floor.

sometimes depression means
summoning the willpower
to go downstairs
and check the mail
and that will be the most impressive thing you've done
that whole week.

sometimes depression  means
staring at the ceiling for hours
lying on the floor
because you cannot convince your body
that it is capable of movement.

sometimes depression means
that every single bone in your body
aches
but you keep trying to move
yet you can't.

sometimes depression means
ignoring every message, text or call
for an entire month
because yes,
they have the right number
but you're not the person they're looking for,
not anymore.

-k.m.

the definiton of a non ******* factor is you
something or someone that doesnt matter and i wont give my energy to
a selfless or worthless human being
who is miserable unhappy and on pity and drama they feed
i dont give a **** about you your feelings or thought
all in my business you seem to care alot
non factor *** *****
save yaself the embarrassment when you see me dont say ****
no snares, conversation, or smart comments
there are alot of things in this world that dont matter
and one of those things are ppl like you non ******* factors
when your name pops up these things come to mind
valueless,cheap,shoddy,useless,ineffective,and not worth time
along with fruitless,unavailing,pointless, oh and good for nothing slim
now since i knw your slow go to a dictionary to define
you are a disaster created by a ****** tragic mistake
something your mother didnt want but having an abortion became a option to late
**** more like dirt under my shoe
aww look at the non ******* factor get mad just look at you
go ahead run ya mouth let ya teeth chatter
who the hell is going to listen to a non ******* factor......

The definition of forever
As I was always told
Was something pure and lasting
Neverending, whole
But now as I remember
Forever is not what it seems
Something lasting always
Could only be in dreams
And as I grew and shaped my mind
I created a definition of my own
So here I come to be
Still not fully grown
Though now I know forever
Is a thing of fantasy,
For that is what you promised
And look where you left me

I don't think I've ever been in love
I've fallen, though.
and by fallen I mean into a dark pit of months of agony,
waiting for my phone to glow in the instant gratification of our generations definiton of "love".
i'm horrible at being patient.
like really.
really
b.a.d
I've realized that if I do what I always have done : I will always get the same outcome so something obviously has to change.
I need to relax and enjoy my crafts
and enjoy the sun
and listen to Elton John
and not base all of my happiness on a member of the opposite ***:
thinking that a kiss from them will really fix all my problems.
because will it?
will it bring my brother back home and help subdue the religion that consumed him?
no
will it help all of the seam ripped threads on my broken heart somehow mend together again?
no.

If you could selfishly change three things in your life to make it perfect, what would it be?

I've heard many answers: most of them being

"You"
"You would make my life perfect"

But two weeks later with tear streaked pillows and an absence of makeup removers I need a break.
I can make my own life perfect.


Low expectations are better days.

For I am a person of reticent characteristics, and never have ever been able to proficiently and completely say in an understanding matter what passages reel through my mind every minute of my consciousness. To discuss/portray all of my ideas is unethical and rather ludicrous because it wouldn't matter what my definiton of saddeness is or what kind of crippling things my brain puts me through up to my impending doom because everyone else has their own pain polluting the atmosphere. Having said that, I'm going to write down my best explanation of how I'm quite maudlin out of my control and in the hands of my state of mind, which to make clear that yes, my state of mind is not in my hands for my mind has evolved into someone else and in their clutches is where I lay cuffed and gagged. If you were to search through the creatures' house of grey matter eventually you would find me on fire because my once warm, loving, disposition was used cleverly by the owner of my mind as gasoline and turned me inside out to be a ball of fire and hate, a sun, the sun that shines through to the outside world and shows to whomever can look into the front of my brain what kind of skittish, heartbroken, depressed lover I turned into. But none the less that leaves only me to point out the brightest star in my galaxy, only me to see what patheticness is curled up in my own blankets of poison. I'm my own prison guard to stand by and watch the otherside of my reflection squirm and scream, writhing through the pain of my ever burning flesh. That's the only feeling I get to watch be played out inside me, the rest was ****** up by the tape worm and plastered onto my vocal chords and was shape shifted onto my face so this corpse can look like a ball of sunshine, though I'm my own ball of hell inside.

I will not be the vindictive serpent's next victim
laying stitches into the brick and concrete of society.
I will not quietly be brought to my knees
sought to please those who make it my choice to do so.
I will be bold against the ridicule like a person
with a burden on his shoulders the size of boulders.
I will grow bolder if I must, to overcome the suspicious
tradition of holding people down and building ladders
out of the souls of cadavers just to allow people to climb
above another.
I will not crush another person's self esteem
to succeed and I will not watch another person bleed
like a machine leaking oil and pretend that its nothing.
It is not nothing.
People get hurt, words are a cursed knife covered in rust
to those unlucky enough to be cut by such a blade.

I will not climb on the backs of others
to cover my mistakes and I will not scale mountains
on the fountain of someones emotion.
Humans aren't meant to be used. We live in a new world
where the humans are used like a ***** and a nail,
we've all witnessed betrayal and deceit.
We live in a new world where the hurting is conscious
we've all tried to be a little more greedy than honest
and the anaesthetic feeding into the blood is rotten.

The illusion that we see on television is that:
we almost always live in an almost oasislike life
where kites soar over the cliffs and heaven exists.
Where kids are kissed before bedtime and the night
is meant for dreamers to gaze at stars
and not to be spent afar from family in a coal mine.

I will not be the vindictive serpent's next victim
I am on a mission to redefine the word beauty;
oxford finds that the word beauty means
aesthetically pleasing, so the creases in a paper
does not speak of experience but its anti-beauty.
Some make it their duty to be anti-beauty antibodies
who seem like copies directly made from a printer
and the thinner the paper, the better.

My definition differs to those already defined words;
beauty is abstract; beauty is like a race track,
it may have marks, may occasionally fall apart,
may contain broken gravel, cement, concrete,
may not even be complete, but there is something about it
that makes me want to keep visiting it.
The olden saying of beauty is in the eyes of the beholder,
the further we move towards what society wants;
the colder we become to realising that beauty surrounds us,
it is in the love of a brother, love of a mother,
it is in you;
you are beautiful.
Definiton of Beauty: You.