As he sits and wanders. Still asleep yet profoundly waking, staring at this vastly chasm mocking echoed sounds of his alarm. It chuckles to the around for transparent friends do gather. Looping and surrounding the waking man’s confusion; alone and fearful eyes wide shut, sanity gaps, mind traps spring out.

And if he is to pass this long and troubled desert session must he not break the bonds of terror then rush headlong to unknown regions. An empty and fogged map bereft of sights seen or familiarities, of paths assured and paths comforting, of soothing youth fantasies that maketh the man lose time.

What map is given, what items stored to help any who quest for something more. Something to make the fight of fear more palatable.

Advertisements

You know what after today’s rigmarole I need a fresh place to cater to us weirdo, noncommital types. Can’t be sure of good lesbian bar, for lack of aggro, testosterone males, didn’t look for geeko lounge in recent years.  I want a damn free zone! Place for me to rest my jerky head. No more regs asking questions I’m too fed up with to answer,  no looks of confusing emotional resonance.  I want some Tourette’s bar. I saw s vid of aussie youngens getting together and loving the commune tics, and I want it. Anger is hard to stop.  Tried for so many years but hardness. Hard teeth biting back with malice. Stop feeling bad bout what u born with i say to me. Stop but never do eh? Built in devil pitchfork my ass hot fiah. Love thyself like godly task. 

What’s it like

What’s it like when you’re head’s not full of words

What’s it like after body shots that drain emotional spots spin their wheels 

What you say during growing when the monster inner growls its yearning 

Desire taketh over and pissed off vibes runneth closer 

Tell me what to think, what to say

Aren’t you tired of independence yet

Aren’t you sick of differential split 

Like a math formula they all got bored of

Where is the friends that rise up the horrid

Sinking loose lips trying to kiss but getting frogs

When do I, we, get some cover 

Manholes, sinkholes, open opening

Think enough

Think too much

What is life without a thought 

What do I go on for but to entertain myself 

Nuts to the wall but friends can’t always humor 

I alone make better merriment 

Those lovely friends just apparitions 

Hear others say such love such life

Where to find these spirits nigh

Where to let loose mindly clutter

What’s it like when silence is

Sorry for the hate

Okay pretty white girl?
Compared to me how many times have you been called a faggot or homo?
Since you’re correcting me on PC terminology tell me your strife and struggles
Tell me the life you lived as an oddity, a freak/geek/nerd weirdo
The years of pushing through fight fight right to exist plight
Beats and dog piles on the outsider weird guy
Fighting for your pride or maybe life against jocks and thugs and small minds
Boys dumb and fucked, grabbing your man boobs and twisting and laughing suckers up
Calling you gaylord while rubbing your breasts
Hating yourself for fat massed up there
Chestal area no flats there
Fuck you pretty white girl!
For scolding me, trying to educate me, trying to encapsulate my experiences and life with your borrowed online awareness posts
you spoken “woke” and praising self
you huffed and puffed cause you on the right side of history eh?
Troopers and truthsayers all of us renegades
Every new one
Every gen y and millennial a soldier for the reprieve
Of good ones and Reason
Of common sense withdrawn from Our expression

Tell us please
Tell us massa
You so educated
Youse the media plasters
Darlings and camera whores
When you see a brown man talking bout bisexuality or gender politics
Tell me please in comments after this
Me need to learn so I don’t be patronizing accomplice

Used to feel

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. 

ADHD Adieu

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.