Monday, September 7, 2015

the practice of wish fulfillment.

being in one place means staying in stillness. i am standing still.
not eager to stagnate. got it? i am not stagnating.
i did not drink coffee past 400PM yesterday, in hopes
that my dreams overnight would be peaceful again- like how they were

when i was first off of antidepressants. (there

are places to go now aside from "normal hallucinations"). i am

on a glacier, standing in front of
what is happening. it's everywhere. there is a gene
that accepts it, and resonates with it. it's awkward.

but i'm not busting my back-end toward
brushing my teeth and showering right now. i can now

do those things easily. it's my call.

i have been practicing exercising my breathing. it works. it
really, really works. and you'll never guess what...

...god is sort of a junky. last night, i was seduced into eating a lot of ice cream.

i stood on a long line to get the ice cream. long lines

have always been hard for me. i made myself look like
the coolest, most confident person
in the world

in order to live through it. i was uncomfortable with everything
except how i appeared. this is successful. (i am a corporation.)
it wasn't spiritual. but still, it was a survival tactic to me.

i often translate survival tactics into guerilla tactics. you know,
waiting in lines and eating ice cream are very
direct things to do. i don't know what they said, but i don't

need to know. they contributed to the guerilla warfare
corporation effort. the for-profit kind.

my armpits were unshaven. it's shocking and quickly interpreted.
the truth is, i don't know why i don't shave. it's just
not that important.
i do know when i do shave, it's because i want
to convey an image of conventional beauty. i feel ashamed when this
happens, though shame

is never a necessity.

the deoderant i wear now is of clinical strength.

it is tested on animals.

i am not dying over it. i resist wondering which matters more:

using a product that works, or that the product that works
was tested on animals. it does not take a lot

to resist wondering about it. "they work because unlike products

not tested on animals- which also
don't have aluminium in them- they have preservatives in them."

said a lady i spoke to.

i guess i'm not rigidly eqalitarian. my idealism is probably
a little insane,whatever that is,
but i am comfortable with it, because
i believe my ability to think critically is very refined.

besides, it's nice to believe in stuff.

i view the world nicely. i am the devil's advocate-
the eqalitarian. i give money to not-for-profit organizations.
i'm anti death penalty. capital punishment

is a redundant pairing of words.

i question the not-for-profit organizations as much as i do
the for-profit organizations. my paranoia

could be truth. obviously, cassandra is at work here.

all the yuppies are eqalitarians like me. they are
an arm's length and then some away. the difference

between yuppies and myself is they started
their eqalitarian processes by drinking +Starbucks Coffee. when you

like their coffee, which is methamphetamine sludge, you get hooked on it.
soon, you become a yuppie, in spite

of socioeconomic backstory. this is why yuppies are taking over
the world, by storm. they are hooked on shit.
i worry i am at an

arm's length away, just like the yuppies. i worry i talk

too much about myself. i worry that because i'm really into
collecting knowledge about music, that i'm

everything i fear. it's jumping the gun. but it is.
i worry i collect knowledge without applying it.

i strive to be effective.

last night i dreamed i was a pop star being fucked by a serial killer.
i was supposed to be babysitting them but they
were babysitting me, so i could be mistaken about who was

supposed to be doing what; who was fucking who. the sex
was unsatisfactory.

i learned i was frustrated
right down to my reproductive organs. typical sex dream.
throughout the sex, i was trying to remember who this serial killer
was. i didn't recognize them. their penis

did not feel like a penis. it felt like a rotting stub.
a piece of shit.

it turned out i was a correctional officer- one
that didn't know what they were doing. i was in school

learning to be a correctional officer. this was
in front of my house.

the sex originally started between myself

and a family member. i took off their pants. i was

desperate to fuck the family member.
i was very unhappy about this as it happened.

the pop star has the same power the mass murderer does. the infrastructural
differences are what sets them apart.

everyone has great PR these days. the human animal
has learned that we all have unbearable, aching hunger
and potential

to self suck our own genitalia.
we all need psychologists to work through this. there has got

to be more to life than sucking our own genitalia.

right now, i am a king. i am the king from the little prince. i have decided
it is my favorite novel

of all time, though reading can be torturous for me.

i rule over my own planet. i am a snake in robes. also,
i wear a crown. it is a gold crown with sapphires and rubies in it.

i read my own poems. i love my poems. ghosts love my poems.

the ghosts are the ghosts of murdered children. they are all
lovely young women now.

they do not remember where they have come from, though

they know they have come from somewhere. women are remarkably
intuitive. they have this thing
for being choked. "i can't orgasm anymore

unless i'm choked," it's normal to this one. it's physical; normal.

she was obviously tortured at a young age. it excited her
because we can't help when we feel excited. now, she figures, if she's to be

excited, her submissiveness better have the upper hand.
she better mean to c-u-m this time.

"i request your hands around my throat, your highness,
because i want to find out if you like it.

if you like it, we'll have sex forever.

i will be a secret forever and i will waste away. but i like it
when that happens

even though i've matured a lot since the last time
that has happened.
i'm untangling my mind the less physicality there is

involved in my supposed existence."

this one had searched for someone to choke her for years. half of

the time they wouldn't do it. those were nice men.
when they would, she could tell they have choked other women before.

she didn't want either of these kind of guys.
she wanted to guide someone through their violent, shitty tunnels
for the first time. she wanted to emphasize her importance. she wanted

the exact role she wished for. obviously,

she too was tortured in her youth and it confused her,
yet excited her during the moment- though she hated it.

she wanted to re-enter it to get out of it.

of course, both of these beautiful young ladies had been
decapitated, previously. they both remember it a little bit, but they

both brush it off. of course, this king
was unsatisfactory for both of these dead women: his sex,

on a scale of zero to ten, was a zero.

the king decided to play matchmaker. he flicked his magic prick

back and forth until it burst a magic spell.

the next day, these two women found each other
on the small planet
and fucked each other over and over. they learned
how to orgasm again, and how to enjoy it.

it is unknown whether they choked each other.

they birthed a spore that floated nearby. they named the spore
"lesbianism" as they watched the spore float away, waving
goodbye, sweet daughter. goodbye.

lesbianism was born. lesbianism
is the belief or doctrine in lesbians. lesbianism

sat meditating for eternity. she was a simple manwoman,
but entirely thoughtful. lesbianism watched inside herself.

cells reproduced and died, time and time again. sometimes,
it was amusing. sometimes, it scared herhim. lesbianism
was a visage of the phallic lord shiva. aum namah shivaya.

aum namah shivaya. she'd occasionally say it, but never
really felt up for it. chanting

felt less spiritual and more religious.

lesbianism disliked the way judgments felt, and hated himherself
when shehe passed judgments. it felt and tasted ugly.

the more she swallowed tainted c-u-m the more
she wanted her neck to be chopped off.
hastily, she invented a madonna/whore complex for herself

to explain things to herself. explaining
eventually leads to control; ownership. the explanations

never finished. the leashes continued to disintegrate.
madonna eventually splits from her identity to become a whore. we all have to grow up someday.

i whore myself to seem real to myself. my sense of self is strong.
i need to be a virgin in virgin-prison again, unaware

of a sense of self, or an addiction to the sense of self. i miss
the good ol' days. i miss cannibalism. i miss

mass murderers. i miss things not happening. i should've ran off to school
when i finished twelfth grade, in order to learn about adulthood

the indoctrinated way. i need to know a lot of stuff and share my knowledge
because knowledge erupts inside me like wisdom.
although i am not a scientist, i have this preoccupation with psychology
that needs to be fulfilled.

it is a monster. it tells me i am going to die

if i don't find virgins for it to fuck and eat alive.
it seeks fulfillment. i see the human in it. i fuck it.