I'm high so I dare to start again.
The chickens are busy pecking grain from shit.
"Do I exist or not?" that's the question.
Who's this "I"? I keep looking, or not.
What should I do if I do find "I"?
Do I carry it? Do I follow it? Is it real?
Looking inward is exhausting,
so look outward to fill the emptiness.
Like an engine,
departing from I.
Author: hotsurf
Like to travel, read, play cello etc.
For Mona.
Should.
I didn't mean to rebel & that's my fault.
Clinging to a notion of love that's
kinda heavy, kinda smells.
What you want from me is
the prison I built.
I gave you the key,
you promptly tossed.
A self-fulfilling destiny
that's hand-me-down &
one-size-fits-all.
No wonder the holes are
bloody & no one talks about.
If that's living insanity we got.
Maybe looking at yourself,
I dare you, then
see yourself out.
What happened to you?
Be loving with yourself,
even though your mother never was.
Dotting on yourself,
even though your father never did.
Listen to yourself,
even though others would not.
Don't do violence against yourself,
even when the world does.
Consider the self,
as only you could.
Illuminate your world
and heal its wounds.
Hating the things I ought to love.
I have this habit see above.
Even as I'm writing this "crap".
Like the excrement of my heart.
Stinking from fear & self-pity.
It's easy to shatter your love.
All it takes is to despise it.
Because it comes on it's own--
the best things in life is free.
I don't think so, the price is
hidden in the recess of my brain.
But what else have I got?
Mother-in-law.
My mother-in-law died of ALS.
She's an exacting bitch with heart of a saint
which confuses me & irks me out.
Every time I visit, she asks me to
translate packages written in Chinese
and helps her to cook while the men sit.
You have to give an award
to a model Vietnamese woman
in the form of heart disease & ALS.
It just figures, she's the only mother I had.
No title.
I drink in the sunset
through the open window
as wind brushes
past the interior things.
It's so pretty I could die
to be one with it.
Then I'm reminded
that I'm already one with it.
However unlikely it seems.
Though the perceived distance
gives me headache.
Family.
Family makes you fat.
Family makes you sick.
Family gives you generational trauma.
Family gives you false sense of safety.
Family gives family a bad name.
Is this survival of the fittest?
Survival is over-rated.
I gave birth to a healthy turd.
I didn't mean to but I ate a lotta fiber.
Solved a puzzle that took awhile.
Long sleep, vivid dreams & emotions.
Now the turd is out long & girth-y.
The best kinda natural reward, really.
Silently seduced.
When you're fully alive,
you don't need poems or TV streaming.
You float to the top.
I hope you never come down.
Leave art to the miserable.
hotsurf_ 