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One time for the forgotten

       this bottom-feeding,

         rotten

   monotony

           that we’re caught in

has taught me

   to be a part in

 the process of greener pockets

I scoff at it, flea the market

   The opposite

           kind of prophet

that’s offered when

       you pop in a beat I leave

my unconsciously

                   bleeding heart in…

that’ll probably be a problem

I don’t like to talk about people
You ever hear that quote
by Eleanor Roosevelt

About what you speak on
And who you speak to?
That’s the way I’ve always felt

But I guess I had to use her name
Perspective skews our views the same
The proof is in a clueless claim
The Truth’s in what just blew your brain
Confusing gain
For juicing up the stupid vain
To pupils in your group or gang
Future’s where the shooters aim
Eyes wide, blind side
gazing at the super fame
Lows and your high’s tied
Playing in the losing game
Who’s to blame?

Don’t tell me.

Is it a little crowded in here,
Or is it just me?
I hate the feeling of dealing with people concealing their feelings
Stealing my healing
Yielding a heel in a field full of villains,
my head’s really hitting the ceiling
I wish you’d acknowledge, my whatchamacallit
I’m different, it’s not your traditional garbage
These walls are too small
it won’t fit in a cottage
my visceral carnage is vicious and polished Well, mission accomplished
It’s awkwardly subtle
Fake-occupied, or you talk in a huddle, too
smart for rebuttals
I’m not to be cuddled, I came from the jungle
and smuggled
A flame that was sparked in a puddle
Restoring my essence
Refreshing, euphoric aggression
Forget your important impressions
This floor is a blessing
I’m tested, imploring with questions
Like

“Why you ignoring my presence?”

-Ps.

It’s me, the Elephant In The Room

Yeah. I know, my jeans are ripped
Real original, what are you, some
fucking comedic jeanius? I mean, this
gotta be the first time a mind
could acquire the entire higher level of satire
applied in your assessment dressed in a suggestion for questioning my attire
Let’s all admire the brilliance required to inquire and notice
these holes exposing my skin and bones
Holy shit, the insight, you’re right—
a little tight, and my knees are shown
Did I fall or something?
Yeah…
keep gettin’ up though.

I hate myself.
Not my real self, the self that I am to everyone else. I hate him.
The self who softens his tone to sound friendlier and speaks in bright cadences to not leave any trace of abrasiveness.
The self who defers to people less knowledgeable in discussion and responds agreeably to avoid confrontation.
The self who fills social-silence with benign questions in reference to the state of aforementioned family members and upcoming events he won’t attend.
The self who seeks approval.
The self who carries a full-length conversation without ever mentioning being a self, himself.
The self who smiles and half-laughs when being mocked or offended.
The self who acts impressed by material items and worldly successes he cares nothing about.
The self who pretends that anything but God and death matter.
The self who holds the door for people who don’t say thank you, and then continues to do it everyday for them, too.
The self who lets the world stand in his way, even after he just held the door for it.
The self who ignores and/or refuses me every single time I have something I need to say and/or do.
I hate my self.
So, if you see him, please,
tell him I said,
Hi, I hope you die. Today.

30 years later
I find myself
asking if I’m lost
and obscure

then, what is left
to live for?
And why should I
suspect my death

to mean something
unsaid or believed in?
The moment to matter
has passed away

without notice
nor attempt to decipher
its own existence
As if every Now

dies peacefully
in it’s own sleep, so
contented by its lineage
Carrying on and

passing away
Never mourning
a loss of self
or former selves

as I do
Alone, and
with hopelessness
In time, I am

nothing more
than witness to
the misplacement of
what I never had

There’s a darkness
that envelops me

A shade of night
seals my interior
from atmospheric light
and casts a satirical spite of
shadow overhead

Ultraviolet rays of rage
and existence exude from
ocular time eclipses
over any blind sight of
happiness I could’ve witnessed

And everything I feel has lied
The single thing I contain is void
Whatever I am has died

An empty vessel full
of incomplete thoughts inciting

Nothingness materialized
What was once bright
has always been lost
in the unlit universe

Inside

Tears fall on the first day of spring
Icy eyes melting from a cold that makes him coffin sneeze
His blessing bleeds
A sting of need is in a seething breeze
that sings and breathes
a freeze into a seed to heed the things he brings
Or leaves

Am I evil or just deceitful?
Has my conceit become too lethal?
My beliefs I keep them deep
I don’t see people as my equal

Leaking through my peepholes
Seeps a soul to stain the windows
Know the name
It don’t explain, it won’t control which way the the wind blows

Shaming as my sin shows
Unrelating to my kin folks
Unafraid and underpaid
Too understated in my skin clothes

Underway, I went through limbos
Staying ten toes in my Timbo’s
No one’s slowing up my tempo
So I send those penned mementos

The momentum has crescendoed
Every sentence has been in code
Didn’t notice that my pen stroke
Was ascending as I implode

And the info isn’t missing
It’s been there and in position
If you cared, had inquisition
If you listened it was shared
Because I dared, and that’s decision

Destitute destiny
Desk view depressing me
Could death be a rescue?
I need a refuge for stress it be daunting,
piling in constantly
I’m smiling unconsciously
A mind full of vibrance
Outsiders silence is haunting me
Must think I want to be beautiful
Accused as unsuitable
Recouped by using my noodle
Make soup or human unusual music
Stupid in senses
Blindly blew through expenses
View time through lucrative lenses
I get confused by the tenses
And sentences that I said ‘em in
Or direction I’m headed in
If living is better than dead
or something I get again

Dyslexic,
this was friend for the meant that I just texted
Calling an enemy
when they’re sending a mixed message
Piss tested, my shit is positive
Product of no prerogative
Afterthought of an artist
Outsmarted and didn’t want to live
Valueless sentimental
Eventful mental department
Keeping thoughts in compartments
Forgotten which one my heart went
Ain’t no stopping my offense
No opposition’s an option
Weather or not whoever’s
in walking-distance is cautioned
I’m moshing outta the pit
They put inside of the sick
Never would’ve predicted
the
shit I try to forget

Never would’ve predicted
the shit I try to forget

I never want to relive it
I’m gonna die with regret