Tuesday, March 29, 2016

i'm gonna grow up and you'll really notice me change.

i'm gonna grow up grow up grow up and
stop walking
i'm gonna start doing something else instead i'm
gonna get my life together my
my my my life together i'm gonna
grow up

how could we get them to understand that we're telling
on our own selves? that we tell
our own stories and make ourselves seem disgusted?
his emotional
reaction to our honesty punched me in the face
told me he was tired of me talking about shit i don't wanna talk about. i only wanna talk

if it's rehearsed and deserving of a nobel prize i can reject.
i started smoking cigarettes again and drinking
whatever is closest to me when i wake up in the morning, shot
after shot of whatever. working

my way outward, toward the door, my toes
and bottom of my feet bleeding, filled with broken glass. this was
a scene. this was a scene in a movie. something about punishment...

oh yes, i keep getting myself punished
because i'm not good at fitting into shapes, as i'm formless and liquid.
i keep screwing up at shit because my mom is a borderline bitch.
my mom
has borderline personality disorder, therefore, is very interested in fucking
you
and you alone. i'm wondering when i'm going to feel better as i do active things and all sorts of healthy things. don't tell me it's a matter of me living here that prevents me from my shamanistic powers

i have every lie i keep them they're collector's items. i fold them up and open one up once a day, every day. i rely on the lie for the rest of the day. i'm so convinced of my lies i tell myself. my absolute

favorite is when i lie to myself, "i have every disease under
the sun". i know what it feels
like. i don't bother to take the time to think

about if i hate myself and i'm lonely and sad, or anything.

i'm lonely, sad, and i hate myself, i announce. you know to who you know to who to the make-believe munchkins, of course.

it has to be explained to people in cars, the way
i am

and
that i have every disease under the sun (and you know no disease
every truly dies, some remnant
of us all will live forever), and my wrenching in pain

is impersonal.
(truth: it's never impersonal. every experience of mine

is very personal. everything is very much so like sex
which turns it into a subtle thrill. but nothing personal, it's just
how i was born according to the bio-social model.

how could i fuck whenever i want to
when i'd rather just allow myself to lay still on my bed
you better get me in the tangle limbs of a tree
and tell me i'm not going anywhere.

yo there aren't any eggs anymore
yo there aren't any eggs, ma, get eggs, we threw
all the eggs
at one anothah

ma go get eggs ma grabs icepick from center of brain
and pick the eggs outta my uterus and
we'll all have eggs

eggs we'll fry night and day

sex
sex
sex makes you turn blind

sex sex is an action justifying our objectifying of one another
sex sex is making me go blind because of our itemizing of each other
sex sex is turning me into a mountain to escape the ritualized compulses sex
has turned into? he he ehehehehehehehhe. sex. sex. it's
even during sex, we've turned into what machinery we live
vicariously through. sex sex, sex, dirty hippie, sell your peace

somewhere else
in someone else's clothes.

we are all the 'x' in sex.
that x. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx. my card number is x and as in two contradicting
lines

sawing away at one another in the hot sun.