if you read
This is not to be taken seriously. This is not to be read as opinions. This is to be read as poetry. This is your life. Ending one minute at a time. You have better things to do. I had alot to say. I have alot to say but no way to say it. I have alot to say. But i'll leave that to you. To those that have the ability to expound better than I. The facts to back it up, the complaints and pacience to debate. The impossible deprogramming of the plantation owners, thier workers and thier slaves. The slave born into thier world unique unquestioning. unaware through thier generationacceptence of "That's just the way it is." Stripped of culture, undefined, confined, and conformed. Through a pen and losing ink, but refilling to prey of the disposial through faith given through fuetal lords. "Take it or leave it." "Like it or lump it." No instint to excape, crawing over each other in an overly-populated tank. Just lying there to waiting to be fed. Eating more than you need and wanting more. Cause you never know. Breeding & eating & waiting & complaining & praying. I'm not well read, but when I do read I read well. I don't have the time to translate in the form of convirsation. I had exhasted most convirsation at age 9. I only feel in grunts and screams and tones and with my body. I feel music. I feel beat. I need to re-learn the english language. I am insercure because I can not choose and decide fast enough. I don't feel what I want to be. My penmonship seems scatological because of my lack of personality. I am obsessed withe the fact that I am skinny and stupid. I've probally never met a person who is compatible with my intellectual, spirtitual, and humorist will. I confide too many conflicting opinions & parties &groups & classes & clubs & meetings & consessions & recessions & convetions wearing a grand poo. Blah. hat, drink in hand boasting of the hunting of overly achived, internal, meaningless, passive attitudes. I've been to alot of bad poetry readings. Chemicals are the thing of today, I'll take as many as I get. Because this scent reminds me of you. Yesterday, is still here. I'm bleached. Flat out stranded and obsessed. I got to leave because you are still here in the air, fucking with my sences, invading my airwaves. You are all over the sheets. I'm in my place of recovery. In my mind. I have come here to do. I don't invent new subjects of intrest for convirsation. I don't have anything to say or ask. I play along. I reach my arm in the way. I just react to what others say. I don't think I just forget. Give me an afterworld. I am inspired. Mercy. It was me. I started it. It was me. Me. Im the one. I'll take all the blame. Me! The godfather. The creater. First and foremost. Blame me. Here's the repciet where do i sign? Give me whats owed. Rightfullally mine. Give me what I deserve. The guilt makes me do this. Consieusly sub-consieus. Ego-super-ego. This is! me. I -----> purposely keep myself naive and away from earthly information because it is the only way to avoid a jaded attitude. Everything I do is internally sub consious because I can't rationalize spiritually. I cant' decide myself. We don't deserve this privledge. I can't speak. Only feel. Maybe one day I will turn myself into Hellen Keller. If you want to know what life feels like put on a parashute, jump in a plane, shoot a good amount of heroin into your veins directly folled by a few hits of nitrous oxide, and jump, set yourself free! This is my thought. Spontanious as possible. The first words from your mind to paper are the only truely yours. I don't think well. Instinct first. Thought to paper, we don't need rough drafts. Misspellings define our charactor, not organized random rambling shit that would make not sence defines what we are. For what its worth this will end up in the trash long forgotten. After I am finished writing. Like everything. But for this moment and forever i have lived in your stomach or in your heart or in your mind. forgive me and i will forgive you.