How did I get here?

That feeling is fear

manifesting into shit

all over my place.

One day I’ll move on,

time is too fickle to spend

longing for past days.

The most miniscule 

ideas perturb the living

hell out of my mind.

Waking in a calm

solitude is like missing

thoughts of yesterday.

They say to always get back up when you fall,

and that quitting is pathetic and weak

Very soon it’ll feel like nothing at all

and what if, along your travels, you hit a wall

facing the brutal challenge, the harsh critique

does your will tell you to stand after you fall?

It hits like a musket ball.

From emptiness, a barrage of quiet wreaks

loneliness, is it really anything at all?

All around the others answer the call

and trudge forth ponderously for weeks

wondering if they will be helped when they fall.

Those left behind marked with illegible scrawl

leaving statistics and data as lost antiques

In memoriam to those who became nothing at all.

The weight of passing is an electric squall

which one must weather, so to speak,

and bear until the end of the fall

when you will return to nothing at all.

There are too many

 thoughts ephemeral but still

How do things happen?

This is inescapable oppression around me, and I breathe the putrid confinement, the horror. Where did the ignorance go? The order has crumbled, an entropic disaster. The means are still misunderstood and this isn’t a prelude to anything. I’ll subtract until there’s nothing left and trial until I find the sense or reason to quit, I wonder what would be left. This isn’t self loathing, but it’s inextricably linked and I wouldn’t mind disconnecting nerves and sinew. These personalities come and go like phantoms staring back in a plastic mirror. The everyday is the enemy and sanctuary teases me from an Eden of dreams and virtual reality. Phantasm, this life is not mine so don’t test me as I am ill prepared and vehemently disinterested.

The idea of growing up really scares me sometimes, the idea about the responsibilities and influence, the consequences, the future. Being a kid was awesome, there weren’t any worries except homework problems and having a seat on the bus. Even if there were bullies and especially ignorant cohorts, everyone was still just a stupid kid, and I wish I could stay a stupid kid forever. The thought of alarms falling on my head every morning is disheartening, and money takes the joy out of the simplest things I used to enjoy. I remember when 3 hits of shitty weed could get me high and I never gave harder substances a single thought. I remember learning how to drive and the pure joy over the experience, and never did I think I’d spend cursed hours behind the wheel in futile chase. I wish I learned how to sit still, mentally and physically, and a bad habit is so difficult to reverse. My mother told me the other day that it could take three years to master an art but only three days to master a bad habit. I tend to find myself heading my mother’s words more now than I used to as a child, call it maturity or respect, I don’t know. Maybe I was just a dumb insubordinate kid with a chip on my shoulder; there’s not much difference to what I wake up to every morning. I wonder how my parents do it, a stable job, children and a little shit like me to raise, their families parents and responsibilities, it’s killer. I feel like I’m going to end up a drunk, some heroic lush howling to the moon, it does sound fun and I do like being drunk. Oh well…

One day all of this is going to end, a forever of stimulated excitation free energy phase changes anabolism catabolism, crashing into entropic disaster consciousness gone.

A thought as a mixture of neurotic hormones shocks superiority and control dominating the organism of Man-No, senses do not predetermine individual action desires aspirations.

A thought has effort volition tears giggles hiccups sighs questions and hopeless answers to be pondered over by precise science and languid philosopher.

Twenty minutes later not far removed from the lines before, downfall and butterflies urgency signaling desperate escape, the thoughts are catching up swiftly rejecting rejection-

Little Ivan was cute as a button and I took him from a world of uncertain despair and removed him from the Gaussian spontaneity of chance, two silver drops quantified as a sack of grass.

Twenty thousand miles white rabbit chasing punk rock and Sonic Youth, eight hours later nuclear bridge over still water welcomes blue heaven for the masses.

A revelation in six dimensions thousand colors vibrational rotational gyrations tessellations undulating patterns fury and beauty worthy of astounded tears, never to be seen again.

A single piece black or white decides eternity upon the map of the world, redemption to the last breath heartbeat moles and moles of energy for the truth, and nothing really matters.

Mad stricken rage filled anguish ephemeral intermediate confusion disarray is a tidal wave of butterflies and fairy dust, and there aren’t even any stars to follow.

Clouds green days pretty lights Resurrection rings in the stale air, the nicotine makes all girls and boys better companions.

Cold nights hot bodies neon lasers ultraviolet abandon stargazing into eternity, the figures are moving and I cannot distinguish them.

My ears are melting and I cannot feel my face, the numbness complements the insensitivity of the rest of me, bitter slurry vanilla soda vodka pizza cigarettes.

Culture smashes into reality transmission revealing echoing doubt and misunderstanding of what this has come to symbolize, a farce.

To bedroom eyes and bulletproof mind chess winding roads three AM blunts on blunts on blunts over conversation dolphins depreciation death, molecules supporting the fabric of being.

To distractions across the room mushrooms pokeballs nucleotides analytes beards colors, finer details to randomize banal experience.

To the lush the wino the junkie the fiend who lives for the single ephemeral rapture behind every hit bump whomp and roll, hook line sinker but the world is yours.

To the stand mission goal competition highs lows deviance the final last stand besieged by infinity naked against the cold with nothing but coherence and lucidity, all things return to ground state.