What would I give for a heart of flesh to warm me through,
Instead of this heart of stone ice-cold whatever I do;
Hard and cold and small, of all hearts the worst of all.

What would I give for words, if only words would come;
But now in its misery my spirit has fallen dumb:
O, merry friends, go your way, I have never a word to say.

What would I give for tears, not smiles but scalding tears,
To wash the black mark clean, and to thaw the frost of years,
To wash the stain ingrain and to make me clean again.

There were once men, playing a lying game.
They had no heart, they knew no shame.
Like Sirens, what their songs told,
were stories of flesh on beds of gold.

Merely this, is what their songs were about,
for wine and flesh they lusted sparing doubt.
For all their bubbles, fizzle, show and gleam,
true love for them was but a funny little dream.

Some, it is true, had  the voices of blue suede kings.
Yet, danced on rubble, coughing smoke, 'n' kissing rings.
Thankfully, their lyrics were quite naturally cold,
faintly sparkling true hearts, despite their gold.

No songs can, in the spirit, ever remain,
or one's path meaningfully ingrain,
unless dotted by a hearty blood stain.

Still, some blind and sleepy were enticed,
those who dropped their heart, who'd lost their *****.
Much like a robber, who rests his gun in a heist.

Others, scrambled to plug their ears
wishing to avoid both song 'n' tears.
They knew not, that when fighting fear,
'tis not enough to keep it from getting near.

Simply stuffing their ears with wax,
failed to fade the hottest new tracks,
cause tanks groove on these tracks.

As tanks, they pop 'n' roll till you die.
Therefore... relax, pick your time, and lie,
not to your conscience, but on the ground,
so they pass over you, leaving you safe 'n' sound.

"You cannot fear what you haven't tried."
Remember, Odysseus wasn't deaf, only tied.

He, chose to fight and listen to the Sirens' songs,
using threads of logic, to keep from snapping their thongs.
Tightroping on wrong, he but fell to the song.
He wailed and spat, yet, somehow grabbed the gong.

And after a short but needed rest, after this soul defining test,
he did not lament the virgins lost, but carried on with his quest.
He, knew the lying men and their calls were real,
but to forms he didn't kneel, nor aimed to cut a deal.

He, stuck to his dreams doing his best to warn and tell the rest,
that though Sirens charm, they harm. "'Tis Ithaca who gives zest.'"

So, next time you see the chanting men of lies,
and their enchanting plastic bunnies in bow ties,
know that rhyme and shine may polish coal,
but listening to your heart should be the goal.
*"With a twist of logic to correct your steer,
you will run through fear, and forever, keep it rear."

The yellowed dome cracks upon the surface
Of the moistened soil that stretches  to make
Their way, emphatically filling most base
Space between dried stubs of flesh - never fake
Fruitless fingers - cracking, brushing, but now
Healing by comforting the path I pursue
          With the wake of the rooster.

Home left warming behind, I gallantly
Saunter toward more humid, fume-fed airs
While leaving the thoughts that so quaintly
Filled my head, forgot to ingrain, and failed,
          Allowing growth to myself.

Sun hung, high-noon, the dew fades all too soon
Creating a creaky concoction kept
Together (of sounds) by bare breaking-bones
Feet against gravel, dusty, rocky steps.

Sky set so wearisome and pink, I fall
To my knees in the midst of high terrain
Marked by thin grasses and rolling hill plains;
As I beg for mercy, not from this all-
Endowed sight, but from God(s) who seem only
To make this life right - I'll collapse further,
My hands move mountainous dirt and holy
Diadems of twig, while I decide - worth
          When shall I dig?

The law said her body was made for love
The kind of love that wants to show you
just how much it loves you
by sticking things inside of you

hard
fast

Then slower

The kind of love that wanted to make the bible blush
make you quiver; the
kind of love when you put a female and male hamster together.
The kind of love that wanted to make music out of your ******

Love said "This is what happens
when you use
Needles to ingrain the words love
on peoples skin"

It feels a lot like pain did

Like when the first boy you ever loved
said I love you back
And proved it because he held you after
sticking sticky things inside of you
Like how he said hed wait untill you were ready
then said "You're gonna make me wait forever.."

How that guy on the third date said
"Come back to my apartament
So I can put what I want into you
Until you are empty
Because we might call it love"

Until you met a boy
who untaught what the word love meant
never asked you when you wanted to have ***
whose hands never roamed as greedily
searching for places to settle on your body
who didnt wish to make a home out of you by filling you senseless
and calling it his furniture
art
who traced outlines of constellations on the palms of your hands
and played
"Guess the Nebula"

Whose hardness never prodded you in the back
like a protest
in the early morning
whose breath always came easy
never hard
or fast

It was just holding you with no intention to
*******

He said
"Love isnt what you put inside a person
In hopes of making it stick;and naming it after something beautiful
I can pin my thoughts on you but
you are not my canvas. That wouldnt be fair.
I respect your property."

There was nothing broken when he left.

these feet, a rambler's. wanderlust
soles tied from genetics of the epi-
kind. his feet did ramble so as these
now do. his difference, he trek'd with
steel shunt in arm. he trek'd slums'
floors. grit-ingrain'd skin, pox'd wh-
olly and now pushing onlys. pushing
ash against the walls of Death's
container. body aged thru time,
more than doubled - more like
end'd - by that refined infusion.
these feet, a rambler's. walking forth
existences' hundred-mile wilderness.
his feet had also, and his feet defer'd
before sixty-six. these continuing
onward searching ancient trails. loo-
king to start another day, looking
for to never quit seeking another
day before the unlit walls of Death.
before the darkness consuming
of depths never known, always near.
these feet, a rambler's. of well-worn
leather. relinquish'd of cares, desire
or ambitions by brambles strangling.
blood running by access of natural
means. slate ****'d soles, crevices
open'd of the crust throwing chal-
lenges toward the sky. heights im-
aginable if only to forsake lazed
calves. heights set for disappearing,
where tracks never lead. no wrong
side in non-existence, no wrong
sight for the rambling feet worn lea-
ther.

Her small round face stares back at her
Blinking blue eyes in the bright blue light and
She looks around knowing it’s wrong but not daring to ask why
While chubby pale fingers type in the line
“Chat rooms for kids”

She know that she is not yet old enough to be here
She’s only nine but she checks the box to assure the website that, yes,
She is 18 years old or above and, yes,
She understands that there is adult content present inside of this room and, yes,
Child **** is not permitted beyond this door.

But to a nine year old these letters on the page are meaningless.
She doesn’t know what adult content is or even how to
Pronounce the word ******* precisely.
All she knows is that in a matter of clicks
She will mean something.
She will mean something, and she will have worth.
She will be loved and cared for and praised and called a
Good girl, a
Babygirl, a
Kitten, a
Beautiful
Stunning
Delicious looking darling.

She learns new vocabulary terms but instead of words like
C-C-Contrast or
T-T-Typical or
D-D-Difficult
She begins to ingrain in her brain new and exciting words like
C-C-**** or
T-T-**** or
D-D-****.
She even learns how to use these fancy adult-y adultery words in a sentence like
“How big is your C-C-****?” and
“I don’t have T-T-**** yet” and
“I want to touch your D-D-****”.
And with every letter her tiny hands typed out, more and more men
Flocked to her DMs, ready to give her all the love she could ever need if only
In exchange for a couple of things…
Will you do a dance for me?
Will you say this sentence for me?
Why don’t you take your shirt off for me?
Show me what such a big girl can do with that P-P-*****.

And she continues to learn new things such as that
ASL means age, ***, location and that anything above 7 inches is
A good and impressive and “wow” thing and that
If she does what these men on the screen ask her to then
She will make them happy, which makes her happy, which means that she has done good.
And she learns that certain ways she moves makes them happier
And certain poses she can do allows them to show her their magic trick.
She doesn’t know how the magic trick works but it doesn’t matter because
When they perform their magic trick they thank her
And praise her and say nice things to her and
That’s all she really wanted.

She found a home in that cream colored background of
Www . chatavenue . com and she knew that even when the world
Was against her sweet, innocent nine year old self that she could
Turn to that blinking cursor and type a few letters and be able to
Feel loved.
And that was all she really wanted.

It's people like me who can rule the world,
just by knowing simple little things like Fear.
Fear is one of the main driving forces behind all of mankind's actions.
Fear eternal torment? **** up to "God."
Fear the unknown? Deny it or mock it.
Fear superiors? Make yourself the superior one.
Without fear we won't do anything,
with fear we can only get worse as a species;
We're really slowly moving towards constantly fearing everything;
Especially each other.
Along with things known like;
No humans are equal.
With differing talents, differing thoughts, differing opinions,
how can we claim to be the same?
The strong will enslave the weak,
humanity will revert to olden times,
with fear we deny yet again, though it matters not.
The only question is, who will be strong and who will bow down?
the basics of human nature will come back,
Dominant verses submissive mindsets,
manipulators verses manipulated,
corruption verses purity.
People like me don't have much to worry about;
People always naturally follow and listen to me, and if they don't;
I can be forceful.
I'm a master organizer and networker,
throwing together alliances, plans of revolution, takeover,
by the time the sun rises.
Differences are seen in how you train your people,
much like dogs at that point, with either fear or affection.
Affection and care yields listening and following,
kind cooperation and content with and for a likeable face and likeable words.
Ingrain fear, order,  into them and reap the profits,
they'll listen because they have to, and won't revolt because they fear what would happen.
I wouldn't hurt 'em (usually),
I'm highly capable of doing damage;
It's important they know that.
Throw a demonstration of power, knowledge, in once and a while,
so they don't get used to me, and boom;
With all of this you have an overlord.
I don't think I'm a bad person though,
people like me are just human-smart.

questioning the soul, questioning
the mind. why did that girl have
to have so many strokes? how
skew'd is the memory? spirits,
spirits on high for nigh recurrence -
nihil remembrances. mention'd by
name once. something wrong with
the body. disconnecting from on
high, disconnecting in a somewhat
general sense. no straight lines in
nature, no chaos in nature. get away
from the species' mentality. chaos.
c-h-a-o-s. chaos. chaos. species created
word to organize the unorganized.
straight line, polygon, order, chaos. time.
species ingrain'd, call'd instinct. to file,
to follow, to seek originality through
unoriginality. thru the banal. memory
warp'd, once could live. self-destruction
and a thought of living life without
affecting the choices of others. weakness.
chaos. rambling. tryptamine influenced
creation of language. showing teeth,
trying to intimidate. trying to rise, a
Jane of the Jungle form of archetype.
the passionate, caring, forbearing,
ape hunter. and lids sinking, closing off
the soul of influence. struggling thru
connections severed. those released from
******* by soul's recollections. by
metaphysical muscle memory. weeping
chaos, wailing order. finding null purpose
in. in. of all things. all people, all purpose.
knowing the worthlessness of well-chosen
words. and gaining access, and
trying to rise, and thirteen lines to stretch.
thirteen to fill across.

This poem is written by Majd Al Deen and I ...
I wish you consider it as well as enjoy it

               ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Every time I look around
And ponder the things we obtain
listening to the winds sound
coming from beyond the terrain

Filling my soul from inside
Brushing all the stress and pain
Opening my eyes on a side
That we are all a brain

Not only does an ***** feed on blood supplies
But It's how you stay sane
It's where your personality lies
It's where the great thoughts ingrain

We search for miracles
And we have one; our heads maintain
Nerve cells with the shape of verticals
Are that only what brains contain ?

Our souls lie within
We try not to let them drain
Our dreams, our memories are all in
They are like an unlimited chain

We love, we live, we write our story with a pen
On a marvelous paper called a brain
Our blood is our ink
And it keeps circultaing all over again

You receive,  it responds
That is why we feel pain
But emotions are like ponds
Happiness, passion and the excitement we gain

In the most difficult predicaments
You tend to use your brain
With it you overcome impediments
Which makes your way plain !

10% is all what we use
But don't you ever complain
It's a gift that we shouldn't abuse
However, a gem you must retain

I am not a innocent little boy
Yet not a devil’s advocate
I am man at the very nature
With fallible qualities ingrain
Walking along with other artist
Wearing many masks to entertain
Some times is in role of husband
Often wandering like obedient son
At times walking along like a friend
A loving brother, hardworking worker
Or else in a coat of orthodoxy frame
I play all roles when they call me up
Trying to remember each dialogue,
Each act, each emotion, each spotlight
And when the next act is to being, I run
Behind the stage to change the costume
Change my make up, my thoughts on play
Run up again enact again, do the performance
Go down and change, come back for next
Living life like drama, each person u meet
You have new mask in place, new act
To perform , new emotion to emote and
Leave impression for better or worst..
And face away after the curtain call

I’ve walked on fire and thorns
Forgotten what the ground feels like
Every step I took were upon my wounded soles
How does a caged bird know to fly?

I rattled my gates every day
They were strong, metallic and I wasn’t strong
Every lift off was in vain,
How foolish was I to think, to the sky I belonged?

I, like a mother for her child, wanted more
To see within my veins, my being flourish at the mere tune
Every note was becoming a part of a song
How quick was I to dream of this music as a boon?

I feel that rumble inside me
My hunger, anger and desire upon my own pyre
Every day I wish for that first day again
How can I ingrain my liberty from this quagmire?

If I need to write to forget your name
Am I really forgetting it?
Or just ingraining it more?

Oh, this foul currency!
fevered up from the stewing *** of pride
for what I longed, betwix the empty spaces
the finish line now the gunshot
and what of the exchange rate?
how many angers is love worth?
when a passion-plays transfered to selfindulgence
there is some overlap, and a chopping block is needed
and the sharpness may pierce the skin and stain, your ingrain
when did that ever bother me anyway?
love for art or love of art?
it is a ****** that works the teller booth, with smooth words and clean rationalizations
minty
gross
a little too much of a bad thing that tastes good
can't get the taste outa my mouth...i think i cut my tongue
and now other flavors are flavorless, bland, unessential
if it comes from within and the insides are but a void
then what can come out?
and the perpetual turned shoulder fears a quick glance, but desires that knowing stare and smile
badgers, fierce and fluffy.
moose, strong and moosey.
the common line was in that connection
everything else is superfluous
hindsight is, eh, 20/20
foresight..well ****.. i knew what it was
the dark hand extended with warm vibes and false face
you could find it in anyone's hand
is there a case being plead?  perhaps.. or it's just the void talking
it was a redness, angry, tender, vile, beautiful, servile, dominating. perfect.
maybe it's on the road..a squirrel being struck by ****** drivers
maybe it is the road, long and thoughtful
maybe it's a bad poem
this one?
yes.

i’m not sure
what the statistical probability of me
getting into some terrible accident
that causes me to go deaf and blind would be,
and i’m not sure how to research into it.

so my hypothesis remains,
that it’s probably a very small percent.
maybe it’s bigger than i think it is,
i’m not sure.
i never claimed
to be good at numbers.

but in this possibly
very small or very big percentage
of this reality coming true,
i want to make sure that i have, in advance,
memorized every inch,
every crack,
every hidden part
of you.

i want to touch your hands for hours and remember every curve and dip of your fingerprints,

and i want to kiss your lips for days to ingrain in me their taste and the feeling of your breaths.

i want to lay in the crevice of your neck for weeks, to make sure i have studied your scent,

and i want to rub my fingers through your curls for months, so much so that i could recite this poem, even in the after-death.

i want to feel your cheek against mine for years, so that i am able to describe the warmth of it through nothing but colors and love,

and i hope that i can just spend my whole life with you, learning more everyday that not everything is meant to fall.

Referees mismanage oversight
incorrect calls lower credibility
faith in justice dissolves into the ice
agency is taken into padded hands
vigilantes slash and spear.

Hip check leads to cross check leads to fist check
malignant hostility boils over
leather armor is removed
interphalangeal joints meet mandible
type O negative paints a jersey
haymakers take bizarre trajectories
to avoid helmets and visors
the face is homebase to ingrain pain.

Violence subverts gamesmanship
players must be taken off ice
to be put on ice
otherwise brawls become overabundant
and destroy the integrity of the sport
yet each transfer of agony is euphorically satisfying
—considering the context—
so fist fairs continue for the foreseeable future
we organize an impenetrable perimeter
once we've acclimated to penalty kills.

Those born in favor, lost flavor, and the flavorless salt-
Those born under a bad sign, never tire of the assault-
the barrage of fists, feet, and curses-
ingrain themselves into your skin; like a child's taunting verses-
Haunting melody of tragedy-
though forewarned and advised-
the favored spawn, divert and are drawn-
behind the chariot consumed in flame-
the guilty don't despise, the jury does not lie-
the judge calls you by name-
namesake of a sinner, lineage of your skin-
betrayed into obscurity, the darkest hour grows dim-

Let's go on a trip.
Maybe we could see the world together?
And when I see you face,
I cry because I know I am not worthy of
your ethereal beauty; and then your smell.
Oh, your smell.
It's like a collision of the sun and the moon
produced 100 red roses, radiating a smell so pungent
that even the Lord Almighty is intimidated to inhale.
Love.

Incensed by your beauty.
Enraged by your body.
Inflamed by the way you make me feel.
Valuable.
As a the smoke of the train encapsulates my body,
and takes away my breath,
your voice is the only thing I think about.
You ingrain hope into this slender body
and give me the will to go on.

I'm so sorry I love you so much.
I'm so sorry I feel this way about you.
I'm so sorry that I worship you in secret;
You mustn't know how I feel.
And as I type these words into the computer,
and your life continues to go on,
Just take this advice;
Don't ever change what God has given you.
He has blessed your body with innumerable  sinusoidal curves
that gently compliment that warm, tear-induced smile.
He's blessed you with those thighs,
Lawd! (Oh how I want to integrate those thighs.)
But you're more than that.
No *** object of my amusement,
but a Goddess that is worth constant praise
and a Goddess who must not know how
I really feel.

A nation that seeks to craft
what the forefathers draft;
a declaration of independence,
a nation of acceptance and coexistence.

A nation that weaves laws
for the ones of different colors,
wears,
and of worship —
building a homage for them all.

A nation with the vision of a blend of culture,
welcoming them into progressing lands  that play the tune of harmony
as blankets them in safety.

A tolerant nation
of multicultural lands,
and foreign tongues.
Building Seven Pillars
that stand tall and high
to inspire and ingrain
tolerance in every
crannies and nooks of the nation.

This is UAE.

maybe it is all shadows that I see
an overlay drawn in china white
on tracing paper
laid over everything
with a crinkled sigh
and a puff of cold breath
I am on the verge of finding
as I have fallen over the hill in fading
and painfully telling myself I have forgotten.
yet none of that is true

if it is one thing we are all masters of,
finely tuned lies we ingrain into ourselves
as if it were the only way to keep afloat
and to slowly sink at the same time
as the leaks stream grey blasts of light
into those dark places
we try so hard to keep

and why hold onto the shadows
when they just serve as places for
things to doggedly survive
and age.

I am not sure there is enough tape
left on the spindle of the spool of my heart
to quite fix you.
I could try
I could lie
I could run away..
or just procrastinate
to wait until the unsavory fumes
have blown over

ships roll in the night
pass each other like
strangers on the street,
we wave

last night felt like
all the times I had forgotten
or fallen short
were released into the starry night sky
or maybe into the waves like wavering wishes,
we laughed

is it trite to say
we did it because we were young?
the night was alive with the rest of our lives
and I know that this morning
you are all in cars,
old homes,
and listening to your parents tell you they can't trust you anymore-
but I hope you don't forget
the friendships forged
over moving bodies
and songs we sung along to loudly
and I hope you remember what it feels like
to be young and capable of big mistakes and mysteries
I hope you remember the stars,
we looked

I promise to not
forget,
these moments are fleeting
and happen so sporadically
that I must ingrain the way his eyes shone
into my memory;
I'll keep the laughter like a memory box
in my heart,
we loved

real, young love that tastes
like melted ice cream
and a salty ocean kiss on old freshmen scars,
it was a love that held each other's hands
and giggled in harmony,
we sailed

into the horizon
with freedom on the tip of our tongues
and our back to
the towns we came from,
the boys, the girls
that broke our hearts,
the time that we thought about dying-
no we were flying in the breeze, I promise you,
we danced.

the forming of substance 04
Stephan W

"For years I’ve wanted to live
according to everyone else’s morals.
I’ve forced myself to live like everyone else,
to look like everyone else.
I said what was necessary to join together,
even when I felt separate.

And after all of this, catastrophe came.

Now I wander amid the debris,
I am lawless, torn to pieces,
alone and accepting to be so,
resigned to my singularity and to my infirmities.

And I must rebuild a truth–
after having lived all my life in a sort of lie."
~Albert Camus


~
Worlds apart,
there is a tension
an alienation--

now, strangers-
in a not so strange land

So many parts..
fighting the glow
fighting each other-

These parts, hiding--
From having to be seen- when needed,

From the pain of
having to need the other parts
who also are so unable,

From the visibility--
from having to be asked to join in-
to the process of
an integrated internal functioning;
the metabolizing of things.

From the pain of it all-
and the despondency that will come
from any attempt
         to even try.

~  ~
The spirit--
its dimly-lit distant memories
of a wholly different time

now afraid to ingrain itself
into a body- that is as of yet
wholly unable to even know itself--

Fragmented parts of the heart;
broken spirit,
a lonely longing-

There is a division
a separation
immersed in a dank mist of fear--

Parts-- nearly touching
but, so unable to see..

or even feel each other in the dark

And the greatest loneliness
becomes the one that is lived within oneself--

An unlived-living
within the broken internal-world
of fragmented parts-
now huddled into remote corners
with such large spaces in between;

parts, isolated from
other parts.

~  ~  ~
One day they will no longer be
so afraid of each other--

Even in its dimly-lit state of being,
the spirit yearns for a cohesiveness,
a wholeness--

      a re-integration of all the parts;
      a reassembling.

Until that time, everything will be partial;
dis- assembled


                  fragmented.

Late nights lead to early mornings when your on my mind. So close yet so far. This drunken dream of ours has shattered, just like the mirror above my heart when you broke it.

How can I go to the ocean when your eyes are the same color? Tell me, how I'm supposed to make myself feel loved? It takes two to tango but baby I'm a wallflower that doesn't bloom for anyone else.

I want you to rumple my hair the way you do the sheets, messy. Trace a love story upon my neck,
One that only we can read.
Ingrain it into my skin so it's there forever. You know I would catch you a star, but oh you'd only catch a cold.


And sometimes I think I'm going mad,
Constantly tormented by your lack of presence. Maybe in another life we will get through the storm, cause the wind is a swirling disaster and my heart is icy without  you.

she came to him in a dream
her beauty twas e'er so dazzling  
he fell in love with her gleam

she of sight verily compelling
lifting his heart unto a stellar plain
her beauty twas e'er so dazzling

in his mind her image did ingrain
as a blue diamond she glimmered
lifting his heart unto a stellar plain

on his pillow the moon shimmered
she'd bought magic to his night
as a blue diamond she glimmered

his soul danced in a world of light
to a most elegant manifestation
she'd bought magic to his night

during his sleep he'd a revelation
to a most elegant manifestation
she came to him in a dream
he fell in love with her gleam

I will live the rest of my life becoming the best me that I could possibly be.,
Proving every day that I could never be enough in the most glamorous way that I could ever know how to do it.
I will become a true mosaic of hopelessness.

Tell me that I matter so that it makes less sense.
Ingrain the knowledge of my true worth inside of me so that I cannot deny that my lack of love and life is outside of my control.
Inspire me to inspire you, to wring every last drop of my passions onto the fire of your fears.
Take the rest of the life that's left in me, and cherish me as the light you never knew you needed-
The light she never needed.

I will live out the rest of my days feeling loved by everyone
EXCEPT for the people who I love so much.

I will break the cycle.
They'll never see it coming.

I don't write much

so don't tax your brain

its just a few words

to soak in , to ingrain

I knew I would be leaving soon.
Religiously I felt out the contours of the land
Tracing my fingers up and down the ridges of the mountains
Grasping at strong stone
Trying my hardest to map out
My home in my mind.
I knew I would be leaving soon
So I tried my hardest
To ingrain the velvet moss of your skin
Into the memory caches of my fingertips.
Sometimes I can remember
Still warm in my mind
The packed path made worn by my bare feet.

"Loving is never wrong, it is always right"

This line struck me to the core
My beliefs are starting to crumble
Doubt rises inside my head

"This is unfair! Why I feel wronged when I fall in love with her?!"

A question that burst inside my heart
Frustration, pain, anger and weakness goes with it
A typhoon that destroys everything in its path

"Then why invest when it's already a losing fight?"

I was lost, my voice doesn't seem to go out
Why did I love a person who in the first place does not love me back?
For once I truly loved a person who drag me in despair
A lesson that needs to be ingrain in my heart

How does capitalism deeply impact my life?

I want to make music so bad, but I procrastinate with stupid ****.
I clean as if people could come over anytime and judge me superficially. I often go out and shop for things I futilely hope will organize me enough to make cleaning faster. I shop for obscure musical instruments and gear to feel like it'll make making music easier.

In capitalism, owning the machinery is more valuable than doing the work. We ingrain that in our soul, more and more. Negative liberty was always valuable, but when you had less you used to find others to help turn that liberty positive.  

I have a guitar, bass, and drums, but no band. Self-alienation at this point. All my friends play, but don't want to make it a thing.


Our leaders are just hype men and chaos actors to keep the mystery going. "Capitalism may be cruel, but it's the best system we got."

"Capitalism just means people have the right to go into business for themselves." No the owners are subservient to something greater too. They serve capital, they serve the absolution of all. Your automatic answer is "it wasn't my fault." It was incorporated, depersonalized.

So many dead and broken people. So much waste. Digging up so much petroleum, the plastic's in our veins. "It's no one's fault." If by some astronomical chance a concerned public win a Kafkaesque trial, all that's lost is money. No one goes to jail or suffers, if you own enough stuff.

But there's the pickle. "The things you own start to own you," of course, but what's much worse is the Nothing they serve needs to grow, until there's no humanity left. Becoming voids who only seek more efficient ways to delete.