Saturday, May 14, 2016

i'm in jail which i love being in is why.

(hold streak of strange lightning own hold slowly
fight lightning which burns insides- bared teeth never; resent

all.) if one wishes to commit a crime
they must be cool, indifferent. otherwise, one must go to jail is why!
you must go to jail is why!

it is best to hurt others
when they've gone blind
as nobody will see
you who commit crime. hold steady your position
of power older than chthonic birds

unable to hear the rubbery sounds of squiggly
worms;
nobody knows how much scarier it is today
when you don't want power

and you don't want
anything.
you lose your interest. your mind has betrayed you.
the guards have betrayed you. your shit
has betrayed you. every last god has betrayed you. your friends and family have betrayed you. your reflection has betrayed you.
it does not fucking matter that you seem nice. you ought to die.

this is a house that takes on the faces of those who've died
after withering away and stinking the earth up.

this is the house carved froom voodun stone. it must be protected
by those who are believed to live by chance
and wholesomely.

i have stood before many juries, passing over
their boxes of tissues. it is the closest
they can get.

you must go to jail, they've all said.
ol' crooked teeth? it's time to get hooked and taken away
into jail.
those escorting you will talk to each other
about frivolities.
your input will be ignored.

you are in jail. you were caught hurting with lightning
is why. your teeth are in jail. your cancer
is in jail. your cancer was caused by your fear.
your ideas
are the ideas of others. you hate yourself over it. this is
jail, is why.
you've been bitten by many fleas, but you neglect to shower. the
other inmates do not know your crimes.
this clandestine guise is allurring. you are the pale man.
you are the suburban man. your pussy
is clean. you are skin and bones and endomorphic
movement.
take it up the ass.
take it up the ass.
take it up the ass.
don't come back.
are you back for more?
take it up the ass.
take it up the ass.
take it up the ass.

gooble gobble, gooble gooble, gobble, gob gob gobble; one of us. one
of us.

find ways to love yourself in jail. this
is a fresh start
you have going for yourself
in jail.
you are supposed to be learning to feel
just so sorry- now what do you have to say for yourself?

and you're
not saying shit. you retard-ass. you don't care

about the trouble you ought to be in. was it you who attacked a man
that scared you
after you asked for help and was laughed at?
what do you have to say to the poor man?
what do you have to say to yourself?

you're not even trying.

though your confusion is undeniable- you do not even know
where to start- you know that guy hit a woman

who said it was okay to be hit.
you just want people to listen. there is little you are okay with.

all the other prisoners in jail have discovered and refined
themselves, they mature, they meditate.
you do not,
because you're just such a stupid-shithead.

when they love you, you think they love a reflection of themselves
they love, identified through you, and that they don't understand
nothing stays the same, even love, even under the eyes
of the law-
that is, except when you're in jail.

it would be best for you if you head in the direction
that annihilates it all.
it would be best for others if you went deeply away
into the woods where you walk until death wraps you
in a blackened, muddy chrysalis.

it would be best for us all if things went this way for you,
spider of hot skin pulsating imitations of multitudinous
species eaten, guardian of the jail- it appears this direction
is one you already head toward
in your covetous sweat the fleas dance around.

you seem to have lost touch with your gifts.
it feels like a joke. you lost your freedom, your gifts,
your memory, your focus- you choose
to turn stupid.

all left
is picking up cues that switch who you are.
this is your sole strong point.

everything has been evidently surreal since day one
in jail.

you've experienced some shit beforehand, but you're not sure
if it really happened, any of it, ever, or if
you're just pitying yourself- no matter what, there's no excuse
for who you are, even if "who you are" is
"now"
and nothing more.

you will never be sure if you were molested
because you feel like you've just been lying
this whole time
to yourself
about it.
you will never be sure if you were raped
for the same reasoning

you will never be sure.
you will never be sure if you were really addicted to drugs
or not.
you will never be sure, is why.
you will never be sure if you are (were) a "real" cutter.
you weren't ever really real enough at it
is why.
nothing is ever really real. you tell others this. you feel as though
you think you're lying, but only because
you don't know what truth feels like.

you chose this shit.

all you want in life is for something to reach you.

(remind yourself people only share what they feel safe sharing.
people only share what they want you to see.
remind yourself thoughts are just all these streams of talking
that i don't understand.
reminds yourself thoughts are often irrelevant.
remind yourself thoughts are just yammering.
they are funny. it's okay.
)

you are sure that you are a different person every moment
of your shitty jail life
and this is very uncomfortable.

you think about killing yourself all the time.
fuck you, mom, and fuck you, dad.

hey, what do you want to do for a living? i don't. in jail, we just do without profiting off of our doing. i have no ambition to be used in exchange for money. hey, how about you go back to school? study
ART?
art cannot be dismissed or corrected is why. to emulate an education i already gathered myself is why. i have enough problems with trying to parallel the impossible standard.
are there not other options, like not getting anywhere
without hiding it from one's self?
like finding it depressing that the things
and people you love most
are the most depressing relations? why?
in jail one needs to be caused pain
and to carry this pain
so it is known jail is working on you.

everything is so much better than me. this is the most painful burden i know i feel.

if it is not me, it is better. i wasn't supposed to happen, suchasbeen made clear.

why don't you just go out there and just do the shit that i've done
with my life? why do you seem to "blank out" your whole life
when nobody else is doing that?
why did you spend your childhood laying on your bed staring at
the ceiling? why didn't you just play with other kids and do your work?
well, i was in jail which i love being in, is why. i can't wait ubtil the next commands of jail. i can't wait to die.
the electric chair needs a purpose is why.
i can't wait to die.
loving jail so long has brought me here is why.
i can't wait until i die.