Tuesday, August 20, 2013


This constant ballet of resources
Money there, funding here, gas, food, weed, blow
It’s a life of constant allocation
When I want to understand more than I already do
In this void from which all things come
That needs to expressed: like an infection
Where everyone’s right. I’m just being lazy.
But I too know. That this is all nothing.
When the thunder breaks the sky
Breaking through everyone’s
sense of self-importance.
I have not learned anything if not to save.
 subsist on little in this desert of violence and meth
control is a farce. Like human constructs built on constructs
dreams within realities. We are the forgotten. We are the underclassed. We are the expendables in a time of excess.
And yet we persist indulgently.
some fevered corruption of reality that sustains itself
in the way that self-actualization
becomes the last kind of orgasm you need
but don’t want to have

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