Some misplaced anger
SO I had such a WONDERFUL day, here's what happened: I slept in until noon when i realized that I had to be at work in two minutes...OMG LOL :(
I spent most of the day asleep, because I stayed up too late last night chit-chatting with...well, with no one...but it takes such a long time for me to pick the right away message. So I slept and spent all day thinking about how I absolutely hate what I do and wish, wish wish that I could have ONE MORE DAY OF SENIOR YEAR. O M G that would rock my motherfucking socks. I don't want the drama though, god, the drama is so...high school. It sucks. It sucks a lot.
So, essentially, I was thinking about how I missed not liking drama in the past, as opposed to the present where I just don't like pretending to do meaningful things. After all...what really IS meaningful. Tiffany and I made out for hours at the old high school field after we found a few 40s, but what did it matter? I feel so empty all of the time, so I distract myself with discounts and depression.
No matter how hard I look, I'll never find the right girl for me. I've been thinking about really profound things when I'm bored to tears at work. LIKE how capitalism is just the man getting me down, and wouldn't it be great to be a communist; but then I think that communism really hasn't produced much except the scorn of the bellicose first world. So I feel that we should just do away with money, and elect a world president. That would solve everybody's problem.
More of my deep thoughts have been that I'm depressed, so I'm really excited about seeing a therapist. I think that my problems have become increasingly serious, the other day I just stayed in my room and didn't do anything.
I want to hook up with hotter girls. I want to be one of the belligerent kings of the earth. I want to have a webpage of all drunk pictures. I you to pat me on the head and tell me that everything's alright because we're all the fucking same.
I can't stop the dance in my blood though, the running of the neurotransmittal-bulls.
See, hopelessly manly. Obsessed with the power that has not been obtained by human hands. Want absolute fuck. Want absolute fuck you. Want absolute heart collapse.
So my day went well until I was having all these thoughts, but Chastity and Mary, Star of the Sea, tucked me in. And I burried my frenzied doubt beneath down pillow stuffing. I said "no" to the world and demanded something else - in my bitcy, how's-your-father, bleeding heart, bastard-penitent sort of way. I resolved that it was alright to act like everybody cares about what I say, because the effect is the same. I can live without the support of the forms of forms of forms of... I can get along by being a jack-priest and mystic in the theology of love, lovingkindness, friendship, sorrow, depression, prozac, outrageous ostentation, christian meekness, humble servant of the dollar, humanitarian leader of my fellow man, outfuckingstanding patriot and all 'round nice guy.
I just want a steady girl, bottomheavy, so I can hit her a few times without her toppling over - because then it's just a matter of how many good stompings the ol' boots have left in 'em.
[so silence.
bequeath the curse, let it pass through me to the blasted generations
que sera, sera,
.
to push the void on others is pushing no void
i scramble here in low pressure climes, anyway
always halfway
to silence, to home, to complete, to Zeno's turtle,
.
.
- what we'll call a prolonged haiku that is too wrapped up in bastard-penitent cynicism/sarcasm to be fucked with
I spent most of the day asleep, because I stayed up too late last night chit-chatting with...well, with no one...but it takes such a long time for me to pick the right away message. So I slept and spent all day thinking about how I absolutely hate what I do and wish, wish wish that I could have ONE MORE DAY OF SENIOR YEAR. O M G that would rock my motherfucking socks. I don't want the drama though, god, the drama is so...high school. It sucks. It sucks a lot.
So, essentially, I was thinking about how I missed not liking drama in the past, as opposed to the present where I just don't like pretending to do meaningful things. After all...what really IS meaningful. Tiffany and I made out for hours at the old high school field after we found a few 40s, but what did it matter? I feel so empty all of the time, so I distract myself with discounts and depression.
No matter how hard I look, I'll never find the right girl for me. I've been thinking about really profound things when I'm bored to tears at work. LIKE how capitalism is just the man getting me down, and wouldn't it be great to be a communist; but then I think that communism really hasn't produced much except the scorn of the bellicose first world. So I feel that we should just do away with money, and elect a world president. That would solve everybody's problem.
More of my deep thoughts have been that I'm depressed, so I'm really excited about seeing a therapist. I think that my problems have become increasingly serious, the other day I just stayed in my room and didn't do anything.
I want to hook up with hotter girls. I want to be one of the belligerent kings of the earth. I want to have a webpage of all drunk pictures. I you to pat me on the head and tell me that everything's alright because we're all the fucking same.
I can't stop the dance in my blood though, the running of the neurotransmittal-bulls.
See, hopelessly manly. Obsessed with the power that has not been obtained by human hands. Want absolute fuck. Want absolute fuck you. Want absolute heart collapse.
So my day went well until I was having all these thoughts, but Chastity and Mary, Star of the Sea, tucked me in. And I burried my frenzied doubt beneath down pillow stuffing. I said "no" to the world and demanded something else - in my bitcy, how's-your-father, bleeding heart, bastard-penitent sort of way. I resolved that it was alright to act like everybody cares about what I say, because the effect is the same. I can live without the support of the forms of forms of forms of... I can get along by being a jack-priest and mystic in the theology of love, lovingkindness, friendship, sorrow, depression, prozac, outrageous ostentation, christian meekness, humble servant of the dollar, humanitarian leader of my fellow man, outfuckingstanding patriot and all 'round nice guy.
I just want a steady girl, bottomheavy, so I can hit her a few times without her toppling over - because then it's just a matter of how many good stompings the ol' boots have left in 'em.
[so silence.
bequeath the curse, let it pass through me to the blasted generations
que sera, sera,
.
to push the void on others is pushing no void
i scramble here in low pressure climes, anyway
always halfway
to silence, to home, to complete, to Zeno's turtle,
.
.
- what we'll call a prolonged haiku that is too wrapped up in bastard-penitent cynicism/sarcasm to be fucked with