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.
Category: Wtf
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.
A quarter to high.
Sometimes it feels like
I've lived past
the point I should.
Everything's in reverse & fast
forward at the same time.
Into a blackhole I can see.
Like a crouching tiger closing in.
A glimpse over the shadow
of peripheral.
It hunts you because
it knows nothing else.
Because it's all you know.
Without suffering to distract
& pleasure to extract
the painful awareness
of coldness of eternity
and the narrowness
of being.
What was I saying again?
Dark.
Birds soar to escape the trees.
Fish jump to silver moonlight.
I wish I've never been born,
so it's just peace & quiet.
The moment is heavy need a drink.
Laughing stupidly at everything nothing.
Moment of bliss so the pain can pass.
If I haven't been born will I be limitless?
Always another (mis)step to curse at.
Someone is at the hem: destructive mirth.
The whinny voice at the back of the head.
If I hadn't been born could it be nice?
It's not a punishment but a grab-all-you-can mall.
Limited access susceptible to flood & hail.
Excuse me while I fill your spot when you fly.
May your feet never touch the ground again.
Slut.
Grind me down like sausage meat.
Lick me up like BBQ ribs.
Wipe your pants using your hands,
don't spare the sauce when it came.
Heat, smoke, spit, slick.
Certified organic, FDA stamps.
A time to sizzle, a time to slab.
Don't forget to try all the sides.
Narci-sext
I cry after I masturbate
at the accompaniment of piano.
It's a great relief all things considered.
I don't have to think of other people.
The attractions of sex as a female:
the titts, the lips, the old cave.
It's the primal mission of survival
with the soul weeps another layer.
Why do we have to think when we don't have to?
To make art? To fill the gap? To beg for more?
Keep it simple while simple gets you dead.
I'd take that hint & cram it up my own ass.
Fuck it.
It keeps calling.
So fucking annoying.
But the longer I ignore it,
the faster I die.
I wish to learn nothing
from this world,
other than:
to step away from the ego
and move closer to the soul.
Fucking sucks ass though.
I want cookies.
I eat chocolate covered frozen bananas until I want to puke.
My chickens don't care if I'm naked or clothed.
I watched a movie I don't understand & nobody does really.
Unless you think too hard & that's not cool.
Nothings stops anywhere anyway so why bother to yield.
Maybe you are right.
I think I’ve gone crazy a long time ago.
I’ve been trying to keep it under control. Cheers.
Mosquitoes, Guardians of Beyond the Screen Doors.
Mighty buzzers, keep blood bags in their storage.
Suckers never saw the hoard coming.
One two three black dots on your arms.
Fat sour blood in our guts.
It's two steps outta your cage
but we have caught the sweaty vein.
It's revolution vs. lazy monkey brain.
Let me impregnate you with my arcane DNA.
Mosquitoes, guardians of things shady & sacred
letting you think you own this shit.
One look at me & you coward & retreat.
The Mighty Mosquitoes is here for a drink.
My demon children.
My children are demons. They are quiet like death. I think of them often. Their moment of birth apparent. Maybe it's time for them to go to college. Will they come back & find me boring? Will they find a job because they're emotionless? Will they go viral for being stylish? The bitter-sweet moment when I say goodbye, will I lose everything & die? My dear demon children, I can't lie, you were there for me & I was a mess.
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