Fkn Weeb

​
I was down, down,
I was on my way to hell
Redemption was I lie, that sinners told themselves
I was hopeless, yeah,
No hope for myself,
I was hopeless, yeah,
No hope for anybody else

What was I doing, I wish I knew
I never knew love, until I knew you
You saved me,
From this pain inside.
I know you love me,
And I think of you all the time
Cause when I think of you,
I know it all will be fine

And now you have to go,
I just want you to know,
I love you more than life
And now I have to leave,
But thoughts of you won't let me be,
And for me that's alright

Cause you give me, hope
When I could only hope for hell
And you gave me, love
When I could not love myself
And you give me, strength,
To do it by myself
Cause when I'm living strong,
I know I'm doing it for someone else

Secret thoughts,
Secret thoughts,
I have about,
Those who I adore,

Secret thoughts,
Secret thoughts,
I have wishing,
They loved me more,

Secret poems I've writ
Secret words scribbled on page slips
Wishing they would love me different than they do
And wanting to tell them the secret words
But then they wouldn't be my secret thoughts
Secret thoughts,

I guess I want everyone to puddle
In a pool of loving goo
Around me
To lay on me with the couch
Wanting nothing more
And nothing less than
The couch of rest
Together

Is this just a place where I go to feel lonely
To write my secret thoughts
Isn't it so much better
To love how they love me
To appreciate how they are able to show their love for me

So what if he doesn't love me how I wish he would
Doesn't want me how I wish he would

I feel sexually attracted to anyone I find attractive
So
I don't understand how
Him not loving me
Not wanting me sexually
Means anything other than that I am unattractive to him
I think this is something I will learn
On my own
And I don't think it's something I will ask

I am sinking deeper into the couch
Knowing I need to go put chicken in the oven
And chop up the zucchini
I thought of texting my ex this morning
To see if he would want to go get a coffee
Check in

I can picture him saying, "stop being weird! Just text me"
But it was early and he was probably sleeping
And if I'd texted him maybe he would have followed up
Later in the day
And tried to rain check
But no
I don't want a standing rain check on coffee
With someone I only want to see on random mornings
When Gotye is stuck in my head

I am dancing much more lately

I am glad the other guy left town
It was too much
He was here for too long

I am being more open
To life
To friends
To opportunity
And also to
Energies around me
They are getting in me and on me
And being big and large
And feeling larger than me
And it's hard to feel so stuck up with other people
To feel so affected
To wake up with thoughts
secret thoughts
of someone else's life

Secret thoughts, secret thoughts
The secret thoughts I have about myself
I don't want them to be secret at all.

excruciating deficits in enjoying a Dickensian plot:
former title...

returning from a former Soviet satellite state:
i'm a little bit timid, about a "freedom" of speech,
armed with the experience
of dating a Russian girl...
gotye?
  i really don't mind...
Polish radio 1... or is it 2?
great shows: some wild affair
in Warsaw, a blues get together:
reminding people of
the band breakout...

.isn't the statement, akin to: i think... categorized as, delusional, under the fathom of empiricism? thought isn't exactly a sense, yet... hollowed-out man ought to know: that any doubt regarding man's existence-crux of "soul" is a denial of the existence-crux of thought...

or something of the like:
grand, bacchic...
a gargantuan "yawn"
of a whale,
    and in this:
     a sea that sends
its perpetuated invitation...
like an ostrich:
                 with a reply...

i believe that
cinema made most sense,
from the passing of
b & w...
via technicolor...

over-saturation,
that was ideal...
i forget the modern
c.g.i.,
and the 1970s
true grit style of cinema...

the lollipop-styled
technicolor movies...

frank o'hara's:
to the film industry in crisis...
well... current year?
2019:
there really isn't
a crisis as a crisis
that is disguised
as synonymous with
momentum...
and "crisis" is momentum...

mind you...
didn't knausgård
call the Swedes:
cultural cyclopses?
well... after watching
black lake:
a t.v. drama...
well...
it's not exactly
a Dickensian tale,
is it?
there's an anti-******
and all...
but...
this show swayed
an English audience:
to appreciate it?

unless creaking doors
and angles of horror:
the non-existent
third party
is an idea for horror
in, Sveeden...
well... what do i know?

it is bothersome:
thought...
notably in the scenario
of it being
counter-empirical...
yet so attached
toward an
ontological "expectation":

yet thought is a non-sense...
isn't it?
i hoped to entertain
"thinking" for the sole
purpose of defining thought...

it is a non-sense...
and yet...
people describe thinking
as some either:
audible or...
   akin to a hallucination:
when that gaping yawn
of the void opens...
and images pour in:
when thinking
retracts, and thought takes
toward attaching itself
to an anchor...

cogito ergo sum
can't exactly be an ontological
statement...
proofs...
    hmm...

                who's to disprove me?
i found that fascinating
how an English argument
lies along the veins of:
Descartes didn't prove
he existed / exists...
ah...
            the space-temporal...
the immediacy of transcendence...
the time-spatial...

thought cannot be a sense,
in that...
   the circus of ideas
that allocate a thinking-crux
toward a convened
attest...
            
          the senses cannot entertain
half of what thought
entertains...
thought: isn't exactly
empiricism, grounded, is it?

i think therefore i am:
an ontological statement...
          god, and thought:
and all the other phenomenons
of:
what circumstances
a naked Adam...
as much awe-riddled
in Eden,
as in the catacombs of the Vatican...

a presence of:
the something prior...

hardly a cliche...
again:
how much of thinking:
does not precipitate into being?

i think
becomes an antithesis of
i see, i hear...
and i am: what i eat...
much of what i think
is worth being recycled
material...

capitulation...
a capitulation of:
   a fiddling with a recurrence...

banging my head
against a brick wall and
still the maxim will not crumble
to dust...

    i think: is a non-sense statement...
and how did it,
or ever will translate
into the ontological focus
that begins with: i am...
i will never know...

freedom of speech:
i much prefer the sentiment:
airing my thought...
i'd much prefer
to be able to air my thoughts
than be given the liberty
to speak...

i can't do anything with
a "freedom" to speak...
i'm the sort
that found Kierkegaard
the most appealing
philosopher,
i like cooking:
i would be great at
cooking in the army...
who fight who and who's
who?

no... i don't like
the freedom of speech...
not because i want to gag
someone...
it's because:
people ought to be able
to be given a second
chance to think,
akin to the interlude
of thought: via the instance
of being able to blink...

yes, i am revolving around
the description of:
being timid...

           yes,
i am alienated in coming from
beneath the Iron Curtain:
a grandfather i remembered,
spending summer holidays
with,
cycling... not being riddled
by dementia..

such idle concerns fiddle
with the current speakers...
such... gimmicks...

   life, once achieved,
having no consolidation
worth is...
                      i wake up and
spend about an hour:
wanting to die...

perhaps i'm faking
truance in being
intimidated by a perusing
******: third party...
the "other"?
yes... yes: i am...

but this is bothersome in
that it is not a verification
of bravery...

          i can still remember
who taught me to tie
my first set of shoelaces...
my great-grandmother...
who figured out:
imagine ribbons...
and i tied my shoelaces
like ribbons...

          hardly a life worth
the importance of being
elaborated into writing words...
akin to:
will Jonah ever be
deemed a patriarch...
the magnetic prospect
of congregation?

i feel it claustrophobic
to constantly agree...

john glubb: and the fate
of empires...
250 years...
except that the Soviet empire...
lasted from 1922
through to 1991...

i am the black dog of
Warsaw:
i am free, but not in the sense
that Locke would deem
me free...

what "i am" has to
predicate what is:
a constraint of "i think"...

i'm sorry, was i wrongly
interjecting from Scandinavian
paradiso?

freedom of speech:
grand idea...

              if i don't push this
written debauch into
the sphere of the prying eyes
of the other:
i will preserve my self,
by entombing myself
in... what could hardly
be deemed as worthy
of representing a mirror...

i have Beckett's watt
under my belt,
i don't know what
an liberal arts college
education looks likes...

and...
            daddy issues...
****'s sake...
i put on two pairs of
socks on my grandfather's
feet
prior to him being whizzed
off to hospital
with a nosebleed...

whatever medium i'm
writing it...
i can't relate with anyone...
daddy issues...
surrogate fathers
and mothers...

         an uncle with a throat
ulcer and a fear of
pancreatic cancer...

here's to me being pristine
in being the sponge
for ideological
grounding of a worthy
infantry scoop of brains...

  yes... this is quiet a bollocking...
Warsaw central still feels
like Mongolia to me,
and, there i was...
native...
speaking the tongue...
Warsaw central
was as appealing to me
as Mongolia...
i'll walk into east London...              
pass a mosque...
drink a beer
and, upon being asked:

Disneyland?!

You've been washing them frequently it's Alanis Morissette at 40 with "Hands Clean"
Is there any sign of life at Number 39 it's Duran Duran with "Planet Earth"
Education facilities are shut it's Alice Cooper at 38 with "Schools Out"
In at 37 The question on everybody's lips is "When Will I See You Again" by The Three Degrees
Number 36 The government would definitely approve it's Fever Ray with "Keep The Streets Empty For Me"
Hanging out with all the boys is no longer fun at 35 It's the Village People with "Y.M.C.A"
At Number 34 It might be too late for Michael Jackson to "Heal the world"
They should have dropped them earlier at 33 it's T'pau with "China In Your Hand"
Will the lockdown ever end or is it "The Day That Never Comes" its Metallica at Number 32
In at 31 We're just one out of many it's Culture Club with "Victims"
Touching and kissing could prove fatal at 30 it's Alice Cooper with "Poison"
Don't slip into reclusiveness it's Gotye at Number 29 with "Somebody That I Used To Know"
At 28 Respiratory systems are affected it's Berlin with "Take My Breath Away"
Number 27 Everyone's warned to stay away it's Patty Loveless with "Keep Your Distance"
The contagion is spreading rapidly at 26 it's Killing Joke with "I Am The Virus"
At Number 25 The average age of a Vietnam Combat Soldier is the same as Covid It's Paul Hardcaslte with "19"
We've been cooped up for weeks it's Alter Bridge at Number 24 with "Isolation"
At 23 Our towns and city's are infected it's System Of A Down with "Toxicity
Number 22 If enough protective equipment is not supplied it's "Blood On The Words Hands" by Iron Maiden
I can see you but only from afar it's Alice Cooper at Number 21 with "Might As Well Be On Mars"

if christianity allowed itself the profanity of making angels saints, and elevated saints to a near angel-type status... how about i lower the hindu gods status of being gods, to the status of patrons, patron saints... like ganesha... the patron "saint" of memory... with that common phrase... elephants have long memories... shame no turtle comes around in hinduism, given that turtles live to the status of being equivalent to the age of certain trees... like oaks... a turtle-head god in hinduism, with green skin to combat vishnu's blue blood nobility... i don't really care where a thought comes from... i guess from the ought of morality, or nothing... but memory? that comes from something, and it has all the amoral rights to unearth itself... so yeah, the patron "saint" of memory, ganesha, since elephants have long memories... try forgetting you have a trunk every morning when you wake up... and then the balancing act of the trunk with the tail.

oh **** me, i did my bit for christianity,
i played a large xylophone to perfection
in a primary school
                                 nativity play...
what more do you want of me?
                    that's enough!
                     that was a lot to begin with
in the first place...
            and if i pushed playing the xylophone
far enough,
            i'd learn how to coordinate my
lower limbs with what was already hard playing
the xylophone, i.e. coordinating the hands...
now i can join the *gotye orchestra...
and be like: ******... swing that **** by...
                  i still have no idea why i got
the hard part of the nativity orchestra...
              most people got the recorder part...
recorders... ****** flutes, more or less;
    and then in the light of awe of all those
proud parents! idiots reciting half-baked
truths about the birth, in a stable...
                       well, **** me... let's all applause!

Cynthia is watching me in the eye
Does she know about the void inside?
I don't know anything else, but
feeling this unnameable take place

Does she ache the way I do?
Or is she just clairvoyant, in her silence cool?
She's a mystery wrapped in a girl, barely talks
I need salvation, so everyone looks like God
Specially those who don't know me at all

Does she know how I look into Gotye's eyes?
Does she know about the emptiness all the time?
About how destructive this fake laughter is?
I try to belong, I try to be
but I'm trapped in between
and this I can't catch, this I can't grasp!

Is she a part of the pattern, the plot?
I will never know!
I am, for sure!