310319A
-----------
Interstitially,
you slid in and out
in between,
all those cracks,
of thin friendship.
Spread yourself out
thin as any
rationing
of pretensions.
A temporary
on anyone's agenda,
written off
before you started.
My starter's pistol,
blows you away,
past the finish line.
You wanted something,
but quickly realized
I had none to give.
-----------------------
310319B
-----------
Blame the lunatic
Moon
for everything,
and for knowing
that it always fails.
The hard stare
mental reflections
of distant space times,
silvery pool scape
of a pox of emptiness.
Sit there
gathering
dust of tomb,
artifacts, while sipping
embalming fluid.
Gazing at the heavens,
for answers
that no one ever gives,
as if millions of years ago
can solve everything.
Scraping
at a plate
of inscriptions,
to find the meaning
beneath all that grime.
Watching desperate people
secretly hopeful
that aliens will come,
to save them,
before it all gets worse.
------------------------------
050419A
-----------
We won't actually meet,
but I am sure to hear about it,
more times
than I have patience to count.
The usual routine,
becomes a circus parade,
of impossible suggestions
that I refuse to fantasize about.
No one I really want to know,
is ever in that litany
of it all goes the wrong way around,
as to mainstreamed oppression.
My imagination no longer stretches
anywhere near to that far.
A sort of rubber band life snapped
gone tired of whacked.
It leaves a bad taste
of forced to swallow down
bits of sharply jagged truth,
that carve out empty places.
Various things fall apart,
that I cannot put together again.
A long list of what failed
despite all that mending.
An idiotic compulsion to fix up,
as if creating good examples
in search of new followers,
before ending up beyond repair.
I have given up inclinations
to go anywhere that is popular,
realizing the chanced truth
of all that futile random motion.
Dust specks
have a much better chance
to roll into a ball,
so they can amount to something.
Most of it too sucked up,
and gone into the cultural vacuum,
of commonplace disposables,
inspiring an army of copyists.
Found I could get wasted alone,
in too many ways to count,
not needing anyone else to waste me
the way they always try to.
There is no historical basis
anywhere on the up side of down,
that was convincing enough
to force an exit into reluctance.
If I felt like throwing a party,
it would be for some of the departed
who had interesting things to say,
on lost subjects of mutual interest.
I have descended into buying books,
the way others tend to buy people,
to assure someone in my life,
that I can actually relate to.
Sometimes death is a way to remain
interesting, and beautiful,
for as long as anyone still cares
to seek acquaintance.
--------------------------
050419B
-----------
It is completely ruined,
because I am not that someone else
that was so clearly stipulated
in the revised documents.
None of the assigned parts
actually fit in that assigned mould.
A puzzle with no actual solutions,
tossed about in various ways.
Repeatedly made surplus,
and forced to deteriorate steadily,
in archives of neglect,
where no one ever reads me right.
Taught to kill time, pilloried,
passages of common gaols
where no one is locked,
and no one is free.
None of it really goes
with any of the commercial messages,
as to what everyone is told to buy,
based on the prevailing trends.
I always choose the wrong things,
so there is nothing to interest you.
You were told not to like it,
and you always obey that inner voice.
I wanted to know someone else,
much better than myself,
to wake up to, in the morning,
but that too was a wasted dream.
I would have made different plans,
if I had known,
but there is no way out,
among all those wrong directions.
What is right for you,
is wrong for me.
We could quarrel forever,
for and against the big lie.
Closing my eyes fails to get away.
The rusting factories remain.
The meetings with prisoners.
It is all mass produced.
I wake up in a lost state of mind,
engaging once again in the clamour
that lashes out against the regime,
as something to blame.
---------------------------
070419A
-----------
Crashed down into this life,
at an unexpected misstep,
carefully planned by others,
who all found it to be so very funny
that an absolute fool wandered in.
The world is full
of all those people who know
but will never say anything,
as to whatever the truth really is.
There is only one distinguishing factor
as to those chancing to be less beat,
and that is that they can break down
into leaking out bits of salted water
while waving their red flag eyes.
Sometimes it feels like walking out,
into the vast sea of swallowed up
into an utterly exhausted surrender,
but never to any what or whom decision,
as there is nothing so specific.
We were specified once upon a time,
but not as anything that fits together,
beyond condemnations of purpose.
Never any chance to figure it out,
as to being poisoned while still children.
----------------------------------------
070419B
-----------
They stopped me again,
and age threatens to stop me too.
Perpetually pinned down,
and always knocked out.
The bruises have broken up
all the chains of memories,
striking at each of the links,
adding to the eternal wreckage.
Nothing reliable there,
that might serve as any evidence,
under cross examination scrutiny
of any actual intent.
Confidence is defined as a trick,
and doubts are forever slipped in,
cutting everything apart
the way knives render meat.
Get up and try again,
but it isn't Up
where I am calling from,
and that still makes a difference.
Doesn't matter to anyone
what I want to do,
because they always end it the same
as another total disaster.
Only the rich make it
into that triage,
where the bleeding stops
and they get their transfusions.
The rest of us left to bled dry,
into stunned wandering
along emptied streets
of ghosted existence.
--------------------------
070419C
-----------
I only get to watch,
from where they took me prisoner,
into that loneliest tower.
It keeps me from any passion,
that might cause me to stop looking
at it all the way that I do.
Nothing to take me away
to anywhere you imagine
that you really live.
Nothing to distract me,
to forgetting what I see,
as to those lands of forget.
All the years that have passed
when I was trying to join you,
in the belief that you are free.
No mercy found,
in anyone that I met,
as to welcome to the lands of forget.
Forget it all, forget everything,
that you thought you once knew
in the lands of forget.
I am always long forgotten,
by those passionate people
that live in the lands of forget.
You deprived me of any chance
to live a passionate illusion,
in your lands of forget.
Seems too late to ever return,
as the stranger I have become,
to the lands of forget.
----------------------------
I was exiled from becoming like you, and in that sense I have no reflection for you to find your own resemblance within.
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