So fragile it is.

I only see as me
I only hear as me
I only taste as me
I only feel as me
I only smell as me.
Inside another home
It’d be different
wired in by different connectors
and the heart would have another beat.
Would it still be me..
if the home was another body?
Is the brain what we are
or is all the parts together?
If we could remove
the squishy part
that contains our memory
and replace it within another
would they be us
or would we be them?
If our brains were tampered with
would we no longer be?
Still breathing we are
yet our desires and our thoughts
scattered differently
would we be another person completely?
Is the brain everything?
So fragile it is
within a moment we could be lost
trying to start over
without any sense of who.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

I do not want.

I have listened
I have read
and I have determined
for myself
I do not want.

I cannot bow
to a supreme ruler
I will not
I simply
live for this life
this moment
these people
not a paradise in the sky
I do not believe.

I live for this moment
these people
all of us
I help when I want
I abandon
ideals and rulings
that protect
a flawed moralic sense.

I live for this
I do not await the after
I live in now
I live for here
I’m careful what I ingest
I’m careful not to harm
because we all have value.

I feel the guilt
of over consumption
as we survive alongside
the other animals
we raise to slaughter
for luxury
rather than growth.

I live for here
and I will not
bow to any
of your rulers
and your books
I’ll read
to build my argument
and if you must bless
at every goodbye
|’ll smile and I’ll respect
but I’ll never reciprocate
because blessings are only words
and in this place
actions matter the most.

If I’m wrong
and the ruler is waiting
at my death
I will stand
I’ll never bow
because violence
and a hateful heart
isn’t what I’ve lived for
I don’t accept their afterlife
I love and live for here.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

We will swim through.

I’m going to be angry
I’m going to complain
I’m going to tell you
what upsets me
and I expect the same of you
because hiding it
should be saved for relationships
with acquaintances.

In a home
we shouldn’t be quiet
we shouldn’t hold in
we shouldn’t hide away
the parts that are rotted
rather together
we can scrape off the extra
and together
we clean
we heal
the parts oozing of life
because it all
is a part of living.

Being kind
doesn’t happen
by sticking the tape upon our lips
and never speaking
and never feeling all of it
because all of it is living
and without
the truth of our feelings
we cannot
find mental growth.

I’m not always kind
I’m not always polite
for you I will be honest
for you I will learn
to swim through
all the words
all the thoughts
all the actions of others
to get back to here
our home
where we speak
we feel
we allow ourselves
to break from the poisoned waters
coated in lead
and I’ll speak
and I’ll scream
as you speak
as you scream
together
we will sit here
knowing we cannot
stop the outer stressors
rather together we will swim through.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

Why should it matter?

Normal is selfish.
Normal is asking…
How are you?
Then politely slipping away
because normal
is showing we care
and that we desire closeness.
Although we rarely listen
and we rarely want to know
how you are.
If it doesn’t
give us a worthy sense of self.
Posting pictures
to give and receive praise
showing that part of ourselves
and the others around us
that is happy
as we hide the rest
because we want to say
we won
and I must ask
if you are happy
why should it matter
to the rest of us?

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

We see the red stain.

Red
as it hits the air
flowing with the tilt
it stays within the indents.

It dries eventually
we see the stain
cleaners rough abrasives
scrub the thought
till it dissappears
only red stains
and if they look hard enough
they’ll remember
Is memory enough
to keep from repeating?

No
not when the emotions
we’re bled out
and once done
it changes the mind
breaking the barrier
of right and wrong
a fickle vessel
and bleeding the kindness
replacing it with a sense of worthiness
only it depends
who you speak to.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina


I cannot tell you.

I cannot tell you
why people are angry
or why violence
is released
from oneself
and onto another.

I cannot
tell you why
I can give reason
and excuses
and try to explain it
but I cannot tell you why.

I cannot tell you why
humans harm each other
I cannot point to a human
and tell you if they’re evil
or if they’re good
because reality
isn’t concrete
we can’t pour the cement
and wait for the handprints
to determine
which ones
belong to the good ones
and the bad ones
because people are neither
because to determine
good and bad
we’d have to pick
one mind out of billions
and give that mind power to choose
in which we would have solved nothing.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

Ready to measure.

I have several sticks
laid about the floor
ready to measure the length
ready to fill
and overfill
this little space
grabbing out
the paper measurer
to determine the capacity
and I know it’s there
past what it can keep
so I cut a hole within my head
to let my skull open
and my brain breathe
filling the room
already overpacked
with all those thoughts
emptied my brain will never be
because each moment thinks another
and each thought sprouts
a thousand more
reusing words
because I live now
and now we live within structure
and the honor
to choose the words
to define an object
is over
because here and now
we only speak
for those that are gone
left to lay their sticks
within the rooms that have been built
by those before
filling their spaces
as if we cannot
create our very own
in which I split the sticks
breaking them
releasing their dust
and crumbling this place
because this place
can be ours.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

The power to create is within ourselves.

The hardest part about creating today
is that much has already been done
we live in parameters of the past
trying to fit within their outlines
holding up to what we’ve been told are the greats
taught in class
as who to inspire to be
we’ve forgotten
that the power to create
is within ourselves
skill can be taught
and trained
that doesn’t mean we can’t break away
and define ourselves
art of today
can break through the mold
and create it’s own style
why must we confine ourselves in
and mirror what once was great?

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

Processing noises and words.

I can hear it all
in my ears
read it all
each word
with my eyes
processing noises
and words
filtering it though the boss
that’s rarely satisfied.

This boss up here
it’s strict
it has demands
I’ve said fuck off several times
and it lets me know
through the pain in my head
making its way through
down to the burning in my toes
that it wont tolerate
my back talk.

I’m reading
I’m listening
I’m scanning the stories
all the faces in the news
all the words gathered
and my brain
it screams
reminding me
that stupidity isn’t rewarding
and being likeable
although affordable
will not be tolerable
because my brain doesn’t agree.

Funny is morbidity
it doesn’t like kittens
and puppies doing tricks
my brain doesn’t laugh
at babbling babies
dancing with a guitar
and it becomes tense
in social situations
in which it’s forced to deny
its atheist attitude
because those words
are everywhere
in the mail
left in piles of clothing
plastered in threads
blasted within socials
and I must smile
because I’ve been told that’s kindness
and my brain wonders
why do they get to speak
and we must remain silent?

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

Humans are not facts.

WE are unsolvable
because humans are not facts.
Our databases are stored of opinions
cluttered of numbers
we consider statistics.
Compiled to skew perception
because the COLLECTor
determines from whom
what is collected.
We are NOt FACTS.
These minds of ours
alter their data
making it possible
to stay on
and not shut down.
We are not TRUTH,
we are not honest
because humans
live within their illusions.
Behind screens
sharing perfect collections
of images
in which tears are only shed
when sympathy is to be gained.
Humans are not truth
they seek compassion
and they give it
to look human.
I laugh at the irony
because being human
is a kind of animal cruelty
that belongs to only us.
To only that animal that is human
and whichever choices
we make
we haven’t been able
to bleed it out of us
because that cruelty
has been growing
within us
at the birth
of intellectual thought.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina