like failed
bookshelves
or crushed
steps

the hill houses
of poorer
classmates

worry me like weather
and put in me
visions
of large
men
called away
to feed

at a trough
maintained

by a family
of flat chested
asthmatics
who sell
magnets

one can later
dot with glue
and give
to the mother
who has
everything

quote unquote

crucifix

People live forever in Jacksonville and St. Petersburg and Tampa,
But you don't have to live forever to become a grampa.
The entrance requirements for grampahood are comparatively mild,
You only have to live until your child has a child.
From that point on you start looking both ways over your shoulder,
Because sometimes you feel thirty years younger and sometimes
thirty years older.
Now you begin to realize who it was that reached the height of
imbecility,
It was whoever said that grandparents have all the fun and none of
the responsibility.
This is the most enticing spiderwebs of a tarradiddle ever spun,
Because everybody would love to have a baby around who was no
responsibility and lots of fun,
But I can think of no one but a mooncalf or a gaby
Who would trust their own child to raise a baby.
So you have to personally superintend your grandchild from diapers
to pants and from bottle to spoon,
Because you know that your own child hasn't sense enough to come
in out of a typhoon.
You don't have to live forever to become a grampa, but if you do
want to live forever,
Don't try to be clever;
If you wish to reach the end of the trail with an uncut throat,
Don't go around saying Quote I don't mind being a grampa but I
hate being married to a gramma Unquote.

He questions, he is not questionable,
He answers, he is not answerable,
His questions are not answerable,
His answers are not questionable,
He questions when there is no answer,
He answers when there is no question,
He questions and answers,
And answers and questions,
Till none questions or answers him.

He dominates, he is indomitable,
He corrects, he is incorrigible,
He takes respect, gives no respect,
He is dependent, not dependable,
Your success is his success,
His success is his own,
His failure is your failure,
He has all access, not accessible  

He quotes to unquote,
Your unquote he quotes,
He is quite open; you keep quiet,
Your optimism is his pessimism,
Your pessimism is his optimism,
He comes up on others shoulders.

He loves his paradise of power,
He is the boss of his domain,
His realm of religion is bossism,
His sadism is unique and universal,
Arrogance is his lasting cup of tea,
His blood group is A-, Always negative,
He is the incredible boss in your life.

The world isn't real to me,
it's outside a thick skull.
It's my muted screams you hear
coming from inside
this bone brazen bull.

The body pursues pleasures while
pleading to me "Be happy! So that I...
so that we may find love."
The nerve.
The nerve!
And trust you me this bag of bones,
this lustful flesh has too many nerve ends firing.
And they all want something,
all demand my attention
for even the most mundane events
of their spoiled lives of experience.

Thank you, nerves, for sharing how a cool,
spring breeze blowing lightly over you feels.
Thank you too, way down there,
for making me aware
of the soft grass sliding taught between your toes.
How special for you, no jealousy here.
Now, lets bring this mess to order,
would somebody please go ask the warden when
visiting hours are over?
Because, you see,

The world isn't real to me,
it's outside a thick skull.
It's my writhing & thrashing you mock
twisting within
this bone brazen bull.

"Be happy" it tells me.
To better pursue it's goals!
It has clearly never even once tried reversing roles.
Well, I have. Many times. For, I've the time to think, believe you me.

I would stuff the body in a box barely big enough to fit it,
and add within the 'creature comforts' found in my abode
which you'll daily find me in abidance.
Inside would be dark, hard, and for reasons still unexplained
somewhat sticky...
Would somebody PLEASE! tell me why it's sticky in here?!
Excuse me, moving on...
I would taunt it then:
"Let's go for a run." I'd say,
"The breeze caressing my grey matter sure is nice." I'd add,
"Why aren't you happy in your dark, dank, brain-box, body?!" I'd shout.

Between you and me, I only smoke because I know it makes
its lungs all sappy.

Why aren't I happy, body?
I'll tell you.
Because delusory images drafted from incomplete,
tainted, sensory data, diluted of any real, exciting experience
are all that make up my world; my life!
It's as boring as drinking a ladle full of water Jesus made
out of what was once wine and then added fluoride to.
I'm like your shut in grandmother you write home to
in brief, lying notes about your travels abroad.
"Amsterdam was nice STOP"

So, body, excuse me for taking pleasure in unhappy things
such as smoking, or hating.
Excuse me for my spite.
But, for me and my experience these are the things
I find tickling my quote unquote toes.
And...I'm all too mad to say,
are the closest I'll ever come to 'feel'.
Because, you see,

The world isn't real to me,
it's outside a thick skull.
And it's my muted screams you hear
coming from inside
this bone brazen bull.

¬The trouble stems from the branches bursted from mean tantrums of the heated Johnny Appleseed’s handgun. held me for ransom but in as much as he trusts his land lock planned spot he must remain unplucked or  ****** with stuck with the function of patiently waiting to branch out and touch something. Turn the pages on the famous channel changer cuz this cliff hanger is upsetting the readers’ digestive systems. Howdy stranger maybe don’t strangle and erase the angle their plato fated brains are facing and they’ll be no problem when the mad-man-made stage caves in. Oh ancient aliens, save them from the cavemen take them to your leader they’ll meet her and she’ll tame them. Train them to fly all unidentified like and fight flickering lights that “look pretty nifty when they’re perfectly aligned all nice like that right”? **** pay attention their coming in hot with a heat seeking mission! Fully equipped with infinite wisdom and phish records skipping they’re insisting you’re a loose end who’s been missing from planet prison. You planned it didn’t ya? The way you resisted being apprehended by those animals. You’re intangible that is to say untouchable to these cannibals. Until they snuck back and struck fire when inspired to stuff the sling shot with cannonballs. ****.. terrible.

That tragedy outlasted the whited out new paper pages for nearly half an eternity. You know, internally I feel pretty empty about the incident cuz theirs a hollow feel in my gut which leaves more room for my heart to bang its head against it. Its like the old tricky ticking ******* wanted to burst his branches out of his old standards and habits of doing the laboring favor of keeping me alive. Which to be fair I completely understand where he’s coming from. I went 50/50 with him on a bet, both of what’s left of our chump change life savings. No pun intended. Threw it all at the odds of the abstract fast track approach to finally get up and move away from this place because we don’t like the crooked looks of it. No more straight edges making us circular patterned people look like were cutting corners. We were taking these squares down in their own home court advantage. They had flat feet man. A good solid stick in the mud demeanor if you know what I mean. They wouldn’t budge. Until the they jaggedly and abruptly branched out to spread their seeds and infect most of the infantry into agreement. I still remember them yelling “stick with me”.

The trouble stems from the tangents tearing the seemingly handsome devils by their new haircuts. Bare-butted phantoms prancing shoulder to shoulder  roll over on the motive to hold boulders or shotguns in his holster. But hold up, he was sold a handgun by a man who scammed him to run as rampant as a rabbit can run to tear up the lack of land with demands to “get in the family’s tree trunk”. And thus we sunk. He was Much more of a cold shoulder of a quote unquote soldier in his old days. Don’t **** the messenger lest you lessen his lesson from his letter, hope next time the handgun writing is a little bit better. In a nutshell, that Johnny kid has a tremor. He’s just a teenager in between the brain and the thinker. Thinking more meaning is a synonym for meaner. No more lingering in this trunk-stuck scenery, he leaves her. Makes a deal with the real inside of reality and magically adapts to their ragged jagged jackpot actually he quite liked the lack of quiet he’d suggest you try it if he didn’t die happily when he tied a tight neck tie to his promised-landslide. Tragedy.

i. How the weathermen can predict happiness. Especially my mother's. Especially Swiss weathermen.
ii. I am glad that winter' is here, for finding warmth in the itch of wool, hat around ears, socks over knees.
iii. I am trapped in between walls and other people's walls and my bookcases and their bookends that may not ever end but can look like ends and ends and no no ends to the layers built in brick, all boxed in beyond this building. And my words are trapped in my mouth. They escaped from my mind to my mouth and now I don't trust them on my tongue.
iv. The strangeness of Roman numerals and the study of such numerals.
v. Is there a word for the study of numerals, specifically those of the Romans? There must be, as there is one for the act of eating whilst lying down, a fear of having fears, and the delusion that one is a cat.
vi. My wrists. No watch.
vii. Watch out for what you must keep a hold on, but know there are some things you need to just L.E.T.G.O.
viii. Morse code, S.O.Ss', plurals on top of plurals, mnemonics, anagrams, one blink for yes, lasts longer for no.
ix. Photoraph of my cousin on the day I found out she was going to die and we are kissing at the camera.
x. X for the kiss I need from the right one, or for the answer, and something telling me I got it wrong.
xi. Thinking is counter-intuitive when I'm thinking too much of absences. Silences. My thoughts don't know where to go and neither do my eyes and I can't look up because the photograph will look back down.
xii. Look at yourself. Steps: reflection; dissection; cut. it. out.
xiii. I cried harder than I have ever cried since I can remember a while ago and it's wasn't even a Wednesday or a Tuesday then, and those are my crying days.
xiv. When I get touched, I go back in time, sometimes.
xv. Transformations.
xvi. Condensation. Where do clouds come from? There are things we see everyday and we say we know exist with not a clue about how they work. How does a ball find its bearings? Where did the train begin to lay down its tracks?
xvii. Questions. Questions. Quote: Indecisions and revisions. Unquote: the more you cut it up, the more divisions.
xviii. How many parts am I divided into now? How many incisions? I can't keep count.
xix. The sun sets early in winter and the comfort of darkness is something you can count on. It stays longer, and you can count on that too.
**. Kiss kiss, one for me and one for you.
xxi. This doesn't count.

"This is your home now."
    Pft, yeah, *******.
Yeah, sure, I live here.
    Lived. I had a key.
It's where I went to sleep
    every night.

"Home."
I have no home.
What a silly joke.
What a cruel fate.
Oh, woe is me, eh?
Oh, god, how pathetic.
    ******* pathetic.
What in the ****.

approximately forty forked tongues
made love to my ego yesterday
for envy,
and in this way they paid me
my overdue reparations.
i'm cool with that, bro.
what else you have for me?

exactly five tickling fingers
graced the nape of my neck today
for boredom,
for monogamy,
and in this way the human finds
that he's been human all this time.
fine with me, miss forbidden.
tell me, what's next on the agenda?
what conquests await me
just inside Freedom's gate?

two eyes for fifteen-odd-something teenage girls
gets to be confusing,
but
it's better than the day-after-day,
week-after-week,
month-after-month,
year-after-yea­r
quicksand whirlpool of
"oh, i wonder what's on the one-track telly today?"
and only getting some advertisement for
quote unquote
"******* miraculous" Axe body spray.

Dear you,

Love me.
Just love me for who I am, and not for who I’m not
Because that’s not me, and you know it isn’t
But you still look at me like I am her
And you still see her smile attached to mine
And I can see it on your face whenever we kiss
But I just want you to love me.

Just ******* love me for me
Because I love you
But I don’t want to
And I want to love you in slow motion like her
And I want you to love me because all of me loves all of you
And just ******* love me.

I want you to love me like you love your favorite songs
And I want you to know every inch of me like you know ever melody of your one favorite song,
That one song I religiously listened to because I know that’s you,
I know that’s who you are,
Where you came from,
All your dreams and fears,
And I will listen to it every three minutes and fifty-six seconds of every waking day
And I want it to sink into my bones like it sunk into your head
And I just want you to memorize me like you memorized that song
So you can sing my vices and virtues
And you can hum all my imperfections
But you will still love me,
Still love every note of me like you love that song because that’s me and that’s you
And I don’t care if you can’t sing or if you can’t play an instrument
But **** it, just love me for me and not what I’m not.

Love me.
Love me like I’m the world,
Like how you want to travel to new places no matter how dangerous and scary it is.
I want you know me like the map,
And know all the roads and streets and intersections of every city.
Love me like I’m the book in the hidden part of the library,
That one book that always gets shoved aside and forgotten,
And love me from the inside-out,
And love all my crevices and hidden meanings and riddles
And love me from cover to cover,
Title page to blank page at the end,
And even if it ends, you’re still wanting to read again just to get to know it better,
Just love me like that.

Love me like a magician loves to deceive people,
And he always has a trick up his sleeve and you just don’t know his deepest intentions,
But remember to always be cautious because the closer you think you are, the less you’ll actually see
But love me regardless of how much of a complexity I am,
And just be the little boy for a second,
Be the boy who believes in magic and believe in me even if my acts are questionable,
Just remember that sometimes, things are better left unsaid.

Just love me despite all of my “I-don’t-knows” and “maybes” and “sures”
And love me because even if questions are left unanswered,
I promise to stay true to my word,
And just please remember that I won’t break our promises.
Our promises are our always and our always are our okays,
Just love me like how she loved him even though she didn’t want to because she was scared to,
And just love me like he loved her even if she was a grenade waiting to explode as if it was a bomb on a lifetime-timer,
Just love me even when I’m sick and the clock stops ticking.

Love me as if Cupid struck its arrow at you when you weren’t looking,
But please don’t believe that our love is fake and an illusion,
Don’t lust for me and quote unquote “love” me because you think I’m a prize to be won,
But love me because I am a prize
And even if you did get me,
It doesn’t mean that you won, just don’t be boastful.
Love me, but don’t put me on a pedestal,
I just want you to love me.

Just love me like I’m mysterious,
Someone you’ve never met before or only passed once or twice before,
And I want you to get to know me like you want to know what’s going on in their lives,
And even if you’ve dug far deep into my brain,
I want you to still love me enough to dig deeper
And get past all my imperfections and habits that I was born to hate but live to love,
And I want you to love them more than you love my good parts.
Just love all the wicked parts of me because people tend to have more passion for things that they despise
And I want you to love and hate all of me
But I hope that you never pick hate over love
Because I just want you to love me.

I want you to love all of me like you loved all of her
And I know it’s hard for heartbreak to leave
And it always passes on like a kidney stone
And it hurts and it burns and you just want it all to be over with already
But it won’t leave and it’s going to take awhile
But in the mean time just let me love all the pieces of you that you hate
And let me love you so that I can put the puzzle pieces of your broken heart together
And I don’t care if it’s flimsy paper that break apart after two days,
I’m going to sew it back together and hope that no one else breaks it up,
But ******* if I’m the one to break it,
I hope that you forgive me because I didn’t mean to.
I just meant to love you
But we just never worked out.
But I still loved you past tense
Regardless of what happened between everything
We fell apart like a broken vase
And I don’t think there’s a glue strong enough to fix it
But please just know that I tried to fix our stupid little hearts
And I loved you even for a little while.

Love, me.

Ok Ok so.. Lemme go..
I'm about to be pushed so.
Over the edge from Nice and Pretty.
Cute Woman Queendom, sitting quietly.
Gone  and push me.
Unquote just prose.
I'm coming with ink dropped worded sorrows of long awaited ****** blows.
Rock some sense with unpinned fellows. Leave ya crying Oh there she goes!'
I'm not feeling these fingered twisted rhyming lines. I need to break free of this kind.
Hit that like button utubers redundant pushin.
That constant cries style influencin.
Bossy commenting well im in my feelings.
Gonna speak my own mind. Nothing of nicety whines and rhyming fines.
I need to Grab and twist foolishness into mental jabs and knock out some bull* fist of
Minds mental blocks.
Brain washed dead locks.
Of what should be cute friends. Taking away my time on romantics.
Due to blows behind our backs fighting instead of igniting.
Social caves for love drought hungered non slaves.
Assisting in climatic mental dynamics.
To sooth dehydrated souls. In a long over spent Pandemic.
Wiping tears by phones lines, from pictures of systemic vlogged services.
Sick of the youtube beefs in the youtube streets.
Where everybody is against somebody.
Haters be gone!
Battle backs from controversies wrong.
Too many Vlogged accounts operates from inner hates.
Not in the club of rejoicing from online down falls.
Cause the wicked want to judge Advocates for the wounded  by spilling of pains.
Not understanding why a caged bird sangs.
My venting.
Is where I release for healing.
Haters would never seek to help others be free.
I can see why the angry delivery.
Why the rough words from ones mouth flow freely.
Why A vloggers delivery may not be for you but rocks for me.
But has its place in society.
So Let them be.
Stop, anxiety we can move in better differential views.
Keeping hate on back burner stoves, waiting on smoked signal cues.
Or there would eventually be an explosion in corruption.
And like a mass event would be just wasted consumption.
Don't Judge. You can no longer even tell your
striking and causing unneeded reactions. Obsessing.
Boom Boom speculations are not factualization..
Drop your theories of conspiracies.
If you think your standing rejoicing at others down falls,
Soon your own drama will be called.
I'ma sit back and stay paused stay clear in my empathy
and watch rise the cleansing of opinionated hands.
The truth for nonjudging fans. The Tv social media free lands.
A Creator's channels  rights to their own fans.
Clear of hateful bandits and tyrants!
Nuff time on spilled rants.
SelinaSharday rose s.a.m 2021 9-3

imagine
how good it would feel to give up on society
no longer follow the bis rules and regulations the human race has demised
leave all the judgement and hate behind and retreat
to an island in the middle of the pacific
or the dead center of the amazon
just you, a loved one and a lifetimes worth of art supplies
youd no longer have to suffice in this demented world
where guilty rapists lies are believed and they are let free to walk the streets
where the police that are quote unquote there to protect us
**** the innocent and abuse materialistic a badge now gives them
a world where every country is divided by color and ruled by one person that is given so much power
this leaves me speechless as why one man can have so much influence even though he is no better than the rest of us
im getting carried away in modern days many flaws
anyway its a nice thought
a peaceful life ha
a thought thats all itll ever be

“Why?” is always what the doctors ask.
Why I sip time away while my life tick tocks by
Why I puff puff pass till the night fades to sunflowers,
Igniting blades of grass as low as I,
Running from my own mind for hours upon hours.

Blame the broken nature of my heart?
I’m advised to
stop lovin’ him, her, them.
When I’m pretty sure I never started.
‘Cause of an absentee father with an ******* twist.
Decides to leave, but couldn’t leave it be.
He had to call sometimes
and fly us down for Christmas and ****.

If you’re gonna disappear,
then you’d better leave.
Burn your fickle ties to all things ‘me’,
all things ‘we’,
and everything that will never come to pass:
The goodbye kiss as a yellow bus pulls in.
The footsteps counted as we sway to Smokey Robinson.
The paternalizing glare as he reaches for my hand.
The pair of footsteps beside a white laced train.

Stop confusing me.
Don’t be the reason for the bloodstains on my sleeve
Bleeding out any remnants of you and your scar
The recurring reminder that
I never learned what it was like to be
cared for correctly by a man.
See
I got so many ******* pillows in my bed at night
because I always wondered just what it might be like
to have a warm body next to me to hold.
But I flip that pillow over,
other side,
as always,
so undeniably cold.


But does the turbulence end?
Where does the line between disappointed and destroyed begin?
And the Reverend preaches.
But **** a sin.
This book of perfection will not
teach me about a life fully lived.

And we’re all living as children on the hot seat
while heaven’s questions are never answered.
The reasons
as fleeting and restless as a dancer.
Still, we are promised this cure
and force fed pieces of truth
as we’re expected to rest assured,
the trivial youth

And Father He preaches x,y,z
while 'x's mark the spot
where a why is never seen
until life’s eternal 'z’s
are resentfully
received.

Now look at what’s become of your kids.
I wonder if you will ever own up to what you did.

This tornado:
all you gave us to breathe
as you decided to
Quote, Unquote
Leave

Heaven or hell, I'm faced with an ultimatum.
Pick a side and stick with it until your final day comes;
but for whatever reason an eternal fire doesn't scare me
and it doesn't help that i don't have a grasp of eternity.

But Heaven or Hell i'm kinda split down the middle,
because the world and it's pleasures are too much fun to belittle.
But what we don't or can't see is always in the back of my mind;
like what if i leave this earth, quote unquote, before my time.
am i gonna walk up to heaven's gate pleading for my soul
or just hope that i die when I'm ready, when I'm more than old?

If I choose Heaven then I give up my pleasures
for a supposed afterlife that's beyond any measure.
Give up this, give up that, quit this and read your bible
because your depression can be solved by stories about these 12 disciples

If I choose Hell then I enjoy these pleasures
in exchange eternal pain and suffering supposedly beyond measure.
But I can do this, do that, drink this and smoke this joint
but if I die tomorrow then what would've been the point

Heaven or hell i just wanna be myself,
just wanna live my life be different from the rest.
But is my individuality gonna cost me an afterlife?
Cuz if so, i guess you might as well just pass the knife;
because how else am i supposed to deal with depression?
I guess i took writing as my only form of expression;
so if you take away anything i say, i wanna leave you with this message.

"Heaven or Hell, you and I don't get a resurrection
once we're gone that's it, done, pay for your transgressions.
but don't be afraid, i'm here we'll accept it,
that no matter Heaven or Hell we'll always be God's perfect imperfections"

Sometimes throughout the course of lifetime
Within our minds eye .
We .....elect to select what we collect
And reject what we dont expect we will use
Then refuse to accept that wich we covet but neglect
We should loose  
Understand theyre lies a connection between you and youre perception of thee pinnacle epitomy
This unanswerable billions of years old enigma
This excruciating revelation
Within you and me in variable degrees
Who really are you how did you come to be you.
Doesnt feel like somehow you always  knew you would be here
But the vast millenniums of waiting with not knowing what exactly the experience
But knowing the colossal gravity of having this one opportunity
Billions of epochs things our mind cannot conceive tempting
Yet we knowing fixed waiting silently respectfully motionless
Showing nothing less than pure irreverence
At long last you are here youre pre - birth recollection
Magically gone
along with respect and comradery
With regard to the experience shared between you and me
This is what has  eluded me .
Depending on the hue of my eyes or the shade of my skin
You fools click and then decide to include ,exclude, vote to
Quote unquote ,let me out or let me in
Keep me out or keep me in
****** me or let me live ?

America isn't racist.
It's a Paradise
Where you can get an abortion
Any time you want.

Unquote.