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.
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
Care more for siblings dummy
Too much self
Not enuff open dialogue
So so angry about self-involved preliminaries
Botch bout new gen focused on themselves and i be same dwells
Sis so sad and crying to me!
Want to fix but can’t ever
Lax and lost to procedural fixit fairy story
Loved the real talk but so pissed at my self story
Busy pissin and drinkin and feeling meself sorry
She so tough but inside struggling
Punch myself but not enuff physical karma harmony
Stop hate stop blame
Love her rightly and be better than previous brother shame
Can you change your rough
Superficial super pristine dangerous
Moderate facial trust
Bright faced white-skinnned
Obsessive with adore and lust
Soothes me confuses me
Just a wreck bust
Heavy metal sinking ships
Imma bottom awaiting thrust
Women be poison I suck it up
Never enuff never done
Closeness comfort and intimate couplets
Cuffed to feminine and sequentially rebuffed
Big eyes get me towards the slave ruckus
Love the pain love the dirt
Back when I was rock bottom and betting rough
I gave the trust to deemed lesser ones to gain the Christy neighbour trust
“Please please come for New Year’s Eve! Promise me.” After so many such years of sarcasm and meanness diluted with loverly kindness, I still get confused about who is genuine, no, whom is genuine. Spose to accept the love but conservative inside the hippie. Mistrustful for a reason, cynical for logical reasons. We know better later in life but do we? An I second guessing the lovely bones that intertwine woth my desolate cold? Boney M, skeleton crew dance festivus. Learn to trust in bs turf .