Sunday, December 6, 2015


I have a very good concept of nuance
I have a very good concept of gesture
I am haughty
And Vain

I reign in darkness
Rise in fire
Triumph in the cold.

In the way that
I have seen a syringe on a dancefloor
In the shadows and sound of so many deafening nights.
I have seen you-
From a distance as a forest of light in the dark places of the gross
And as I come as the soul of the leviathan
I see that you will make a great famous person.
Everyone seems to have motives, it is their motives that spool them.
I wish them all well, but in many ways this has shifted my emphasis
Irreversibly, in such a way that I have no real desires of my own anymore
I have become unbound
Like a mariner out to sea, and I know I will never see the shores of my homeland ever again
But it is a lie that I tell myself
As to animate this corpse of a body for another day
Also… This corpse of a body likes to dance
And I’m a hella good dancer. 
It has served me well on those unknown dark shores

I ride over 100 miles a week
14 a day, every day, on my days off it’s more
50 hours of kitchen shit, every week
So I can live in a neighborhood
Where I can literally hear men fighting in the street right now.
Bottles break.
“fuck you too, Nigga.”
Flesh meets flesh. Voices are raised.
“Don’t’ Fucking worry about it!” and faintly- pleading like a plastic bag caught on chain-link
feminine voices are wrung out into the array to be crushed under the spokes of what has already become the inevitable,
“shut the FUCK up!”
Gunshots are heard. Windows break.
And I... I sit here typing, on a keyboard that I find irritating, because it is not ergonomic. Because I think that ergonomic keyboards help me type better. And I could give a fuck about which one of my drunken neighbors gets killed tonight.
It is monachopsis; in such a way that I am indigenous and have become deforested by some moronic and pathetic invasive species.
But if this environment has taught me anything. It has something to do with how we prepare for fire.
Quick and decisive
But it has everything to do with healing.
Recovery makes great
As trees must endure fire, so too, shall dreams be tested

When times are lean do not pity yourself
Falling in love with one’s own legend is treacherous
I am not special for making it through the snow, as much as nobody cares to hear of traffic
True art requires a noble approach.
As a samurai slashes through its opposition, not at it
I am building a house, not hammering a nail
It is a slight difference, making love to a woman
devouring a mango, feeding on a pomegranate
it is these ideas that keep me warm
when my hands feel chapped and my spine wants to climb out of my back
and curl up, and die.
Yet, the snow can be refreshing
The sorrow grants perspective
The frost gives us a reason to shed what we have carried
Arguably, for too long.
Unfolding like a gentle dance with oneself
surrendering to the onism
that the essence of self is never what it quite appears to be.

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