Sellouts always sell themselves on giving in.
I used to want the brother, the yang to me me. Thought He would be a certain way foolishly. But after hearing so many guys talk real about bros, i understand i was lucky fofucky to have sisters and be myself all these years without outside older brother influence. Many years of thinking i wanted that unreal, that blood kin inside my imagination. Dumby me but lovin the expansion of maturity and awareness.
I feel like I want the drugs, the extra pre scripts that dull and conjecture me, juxtapose my posie me with poised poses that work on the city. Big cities, we all freaky people-span of attention quizzical and busy. Don’t want to be like those Ridilin kids, that predays when chest felt empty, hollow feels and dull mouth mumbling stubbles. Want the focus though. Craving it, insane with the turbulence of concentration flummox just hazy day/night pulling eyes towards bookies and epubs; texts perused aloof for half minutes then abandoned for miles as I run lapse to other projects. Poor bookies, old and new and digital too, looking for touch with silent folds and bookmarks saving forgotten trysts.
Want focus but it must be earned by me. Natural work my butt off training without the montages. Spend some hours for several pages or sparse ink lines.
If I was to be honest with myself, with her, with whomever I latch my emotional wagon to, I would be brave enough to face those hurt faces; the sad, slanted lip, tiny open mouthed pains written on pretty visages. I hat them so much, I recall them daily as I am want to cudgel and flail myself metaphorically; the whole Catholic upbringing shit. Damn you judgy white hats, with your fake laurels and holier-than-thou overly curious digits.
I feel in me to tell, not to tell, am I saving myself or her. The ever-present her that always seems to come every.. year, biannual, lonely half-desperate existential period? Think I care enough about Her? No, unfortunately it is always about me. The favourite, the loved peer, the exalted inner Danny awaiting his forever Shine. So many bads and embarrassments melded into they all love me, cuddle me verbally, eyes so cordial and kindly. Sick of my openness and comfort effortlessly. Everyone says so approachable yet I should be lovingly. Ready.
So closed I get lost in the metal gears that shunt and stern the heartsing. Shards speak words that we afraid to speak, leak, spill onto digital paper sheets. Only brave when it comes to blogging. So utterly morose at the thought of femme loss, hurt faces.
Hurt faces speak volumes upon my deafened ears after years of selfish shit. Want to open but aware of the empty organs pumping materially.
Take the solace in solemn silent promises to twitchy McGee walls up
I could sit at the table with the pad so empty
So much white space it thrilled me then fearfully
Set up this desk for inkling inking
Architectural digesting passes through
Sketches and illustrates take a tick off my subpar
No one can see me tic running tick tock forever waiting for perfection
Perfectionist obsessive kid
Basement/office dwelling third place reversing
Bulked up to level this
Eyes on surpass but lacking push button confidence
Stuck to me, you, Irene too
Head jerking venting to release that dark stain joo joo
Screw the straightheads staring stone-faced
reject redirect Rob rejects
Upset relax meditate relapse
Pressure foments as my fingers bent
Curse the digits and hands clawing
Feel arthritic and Parkinson’s sick
High on the worry and losing the dismissive
Give in to obese obsess suppress subset stress
She shud be able to enjoy it
Flow after retirement
Ease from lacking office
Less stress less tests
Knock down meds
Big heart be damned
Bio complicated interfere her
Enlarged aorta no kill her
Strong like bull and stubborn too
Ppl sick from worry bout sickness
Bouts of ill
Fuck de bucket list
New fuckit list
Alms to mater
She deserves more than we give her
You try and make up for the years of horrid treatment. Sure there was such tears dampening my soggy shoulders, but amid the adolescence there was the selfish anger. Roiling teen cursing mum, curse god world Mississippi goddamn. Lacking heart for familiars and stressed her test she took it with wavering strides cause her heart was so big. Always felt bad, guilt, guiltlove, sick with love and now abstaining.
This shud be her time
Life owes her
Ppl owe her
We owe her
But she takes less n les
Stupid motherly love