Aren’t your exhausted
selling what you haven’t got?
Or just a bit of who you are,
but really no one gives a fuck?
You’re the money-maker,
the signage to the gift-shop.
Or maybe you’re the main attraction
who wonders when the time’s gonna be up.
All the fine details few can afford,
not sure should celebrate you or leave you alone.
Baby, it’s lonely in a crowd.
Every one needs something something, a lot.
How much are you willing to give to please?
Your time, your life, your peace, your god?
For the sake of a polaroid undeveloped?
Someday, somewhere when the lights come on,
will you be there or will it be someone else?
Hotstuf – Firestick.
In keeping.
The evening’s one of those,
too good to be true.
One star’s burning bright
like it was once told.
Traffic air, crystal light,
somewhere a clink
of an unseen cup or knife.
Intoxicated by the moment,
forgetting the day’s toil,
all too grateful to be alive,
for nothing but this quiet.
I don’t know if I’ve told you
but I love you so.
And you can’t deny me anymore
but I can’t say I’m yours.
Some candle light,
once or twice on summer nights,
the floating feels & minds
never touching the ground
when you are showing me around.
Have I been patient?
Was I too troublesome?
Gave me one chance,
then 2, then 3,
keeping me guessing what it is about.
Then maybe I’ve always known.
The journey is the reward.
I wish you well.
She says.
Don’t interrupt me.
What do I have to do to get your attention?
I’m talking, why don’t you listen?
You can’t afford me to be your assistant.
So don’t interrupt me.
You don’t come from a higher shelf than mine,
so stop pretending you know the value of my time.
I’m talking straight-up business, alright?
So don’t interrupt me.
You don’t get to turn the page in this book,
I’m the one with the ruler & the robe.
Being in control while your life’s a merch.
So don’t interrupt me.
I don’t tell you to drop dead
even after you turn into a talking-head.
Oh, am I beneath your intelligent level?
Is communication all but impossible?
I ain’t your ass-kisser, your affirmation signage,
so shut up and be quiet for a change.
And hear what a grown woman has to say.
No? Nothing to teach you? You’ve seen it all?
Well, fuck off, you don’t get to interrupt me
just because, I’m a woman and talking sense
that is somehow not on your wavelength.
Voluntary deafness, dumbness,
something to conflict about?
Don’t interrupt me when I talk.
I wait for you to finish though.
I try to understand your point.
If you’re not gonna take your top-hat off,
feel free to be miserable all by yourself.
Big men & women who’ve seen it all,
but never learned to respect nor keep eyes open.
Don’t interrupt me because you don’t want to know
the human-being that’s across the room.
I don’t want to live like you.
I don’t want to be around you.
You could be holding the golden ball,
I’d still tell you where you belong.
It’s no use, I make it a big deal.
Don’t interrupt me, or get outta my face.
Touchdown.
Modern primal.
It’s been 3 years since I had a job. To be truthful, doing my own startup was partly a ruse. I simply could not go on with the way I was any more. Was it so bad? Having a baseline tech job, a lazy, unobservant, baby-wanting husband and my ever-ticking bio-bomb.
I was in a cage, where all the trappings are controlled by a mechanism that’s impersonal and superficial. Fed by the free, hip, doped-up food and beers, you’d think I’d be happier.
I thought I craved structured and predictable life. But I was gazing into the horizon, feeling lost, all the time. Then Trump was elected.
Somehow I knew on the election day, he would be our choice. I didn’t vote for him, but before the results were in, I knew America was ready to try out another path. I was not going to judge. I was ready for another path too.
Our ancestors lived on their wits and the fortune’s hand. “I’m ready for my day’s blessing now” is my mantra in the morning. I admit, I should have done this a long time ago. I should have moved out of my parents’ house and struck out on my own, then maybe… .
Even now, I’m not self-powered. I rely on my husband. I wonder if I’m just so selfish and self-centered and parasitic. I often feel the urge to tell him, “I’m gonna have to let you go. You are an OK person, but I have no use for you any more. You will find some female who is more….” Suitable? Fuck it, I don’t fucking care. That’s not true. I feel guilt when I look at him.
How I day-dream about my life. I think I’m living it actually. A cushion to fall back on when I run out of steam. That’s very important. God, how I wish that I haven’t learned the lessons I learned! The practical, survival, self-preserving, always moderate center point that is now solid.
There was a time, when that center would slip, and the world would tilt a little, then I would see the world as if it’s underwater. I was someone else. I liked that feeling. Not being myself.
I want to roam and forage. Run with, be hunted and chased by pristine animals. People are not pristine. I’m not pristine. But I want to be.
Script – Qing
Hotstuf – How are you.
They.
“They” is not for me,
it’s for them
who only sees a woman
to be impregnated
or just a man
to be domesticated.
“She” & “He” work perfectly
though only momentarily,
then the spirit rises & wanes,
you may know me differently.
But don’t be confused,
it’s me as a whole.
You may be surprised
pleasantly or otherwise.
Which is the big deal
now you need to know,
not everyone’s binary
that fit into your ideals.
“They” is for you.
