Sunday afternoon dining table workstations
trying to sort through imagination
developing a shitty application
to increase visibility.
Trying to remember whether or not I’ve got my macros
my muscles ache from trying be tamed again
supplements encroaching on need based
maybe I’ll just eat eggs all day.
Slush puddle game strong with it bottomless lakes sprawling the dense driveways
shoveling won’t do shit but disprove the theory that those boots waterproof
maybe you should have just been okay with letting them melt and evaporate
or maybe you just had nothing better to do, pushing it ain’t doing shit.
Procrastinating myself into a stupor
test scripts screaming out: passed
but really i don’t know it
cause they all failing.
Appreciating sunlight after snow drifts falling and crawling across highway nights
wasn’t trying to over take that ambulance that was driving all together too slow
but snow fell faster than my tires could tell them they aren’t new no more
Sixty miles through that shit, and all I let myself have; fries.
French spy parodies bringing a semblance of sanity back into my life
we’re all a little ridiculous, but our delusions are our own
I know the world won’t accept such things readily
but they gave him an Oscar a few years later.
Angst ridden pits of anxiety and perplexed conscious insufficiency readily inside
we take steps to over ride them, sometimes lie, sometimes getting really high
but most days all it takes is a couple breaths and few notes from Rubab
i’ll play them indefinitely, someday they’ll make sense again.
The slow hum of the organ plugging away, i still can understand how to play
concussed with pulsating theories about how i should spend my days
the low echo of the reverb reminded me that today won’t stay
while tomorrow and yesterday are already gone.
Happiness reminds the occasional thought, the ones refused by time and memory
the home movies repeatedly projected behind my visual cortex indefinitely
soundtracks ruled by the shuffle button iTunes never really figured out
maybe its okay I’m this way, maybe I won’t hurt anyone else.
Sunlight creeping onto this carbon catastrophe
they really should figure out all this glare
but I’m no engineer, they’re smarter
Dammit they have one track minds
Remind me again Words, why I Do this to myself
set arbitrarily out to prove something wrong
looking for the idea that no one knew
but really it was me the whole time.
Narcissism creeps along the hallowed line of self evidence of heart and mind
I’m no spiritual teacher, but I see the thoughts creep as I’ve fallen behind
lost the spark to remind the entire system, lost time it couldn’t wait to die
maybe one day it’ll be easier, or it’ll be the same, i don’t know
Finger tips and cuticles covered in crusty scabs the even crabs won’t hold down
no matter what I do I’m reminded of the idea that I am never completely there
sometimes I let the parasympathetic take over and rule for a little bit
gently reminding me that I just live in this body its got rules too.
Physical world reminding me that spirit stronger than matter
caring a little bit more about doing the best that can be
the best is what it is but it ain’t a standard i can set
I’m talking mad, trying to convince myself second is OK.
Waves oscillating as they always will telling my mind that even writing takes time
these text documents fill them selves with macros and unsolicited data sets
readying ourselves for the truth of the matter as it would matter to us
it not as obvious as it seems, sometimes i just want to flat line.
Sit up straight they’ll tell you to command the respect of gentleman
of men with more power and stature and financial standing than you
breathing the words they’ll regurgitate condescendingly back
but i’m just sitting here sequencing symphonies in my head.
Some day I’ll remember why I memorize the numbers in my head
maybe they’ll tell me the meaning of life one day
possibly sign my the warrant for my arrest
or very possibly: they’re just numbers.
Stomping grounds of yesterday’s decades past, filled with inconsistent safety nets
blindly walking around this mess as of normalcy, jealous of their contentedness
I got lucky enough to never want what everyone else had, maybe I’m just tired
either way I’m not wishing to return, the haunt doesn’t curse any more.
I’ll believe in the mercy of the almighty more than I believe it will ever be fore me
I’m just a vessel for words and pointless thoughts concussing this keyboard
I’ll dull the feeling of anything more, pointless trying anything else really
maybe It’ll take me longer to remember what I’m doing than doing it.
Elder in the Russian mob, sitting where the barber’ll cut my brothers hair
the tats and the ring are giveaways, beyond that it’s in his eyes, I see
wish he’d just been the grandpa of second generations immigrants
keeps trying to kill me with his eyes, wouldn’t be surprised.
Myth takes, as I finally get to use the words from songs that always mean more
mixing around like the brownie batter that’s altogether too much chocolate
they’re not what they used to be the things that held reality up
they don’t need to be anymore, we are the children of the dirt.
I won’t proofread this
Might reread it