I’m prone to bouts of anger, short tempered, the overly sensitive type. Writing is a way to make sense of it all. While art is a way in which I can escape the thoughts that haunt me shutting off conscious thought and allowing my hands to guide me.
A calm posture replaced by complicated matters collections adding on more guppies in the pond and you feel overwhelmed not enough supplies to go around because it’s tied up in the hands of cons you’ve pulled seven guppies out that one has an ugly snout with your crafty hands it’ll be workable to bad for them they were gullible believing you had several cures you did only they’re meant to dissolve your fears chop chop that flesh will be perfect for a reset looking down at the calluses long hours building the betters houses this guppy is for you off the books your employer wont have a clue the other six you’ll dissect and pull out their intellect placing it within the brains of the uppers fed to them through their suppers.
All these standards to live by all these standards to fall beneath I shovel myself out several nights a week buried by perfectionists buried by misconceptions the dirt has reached my lungs I exhale dust I feel ok no forget that I feel exceptional I feel freed as I say never I don’t want the tombstone caskets are hazardous to natural decomposing I won’t compromise this don’t spend the money at a crematory either just light my body on fire and piss all over it isn’t that what we all do metaphorically what’s ok for you shall never be ok for me and vice versa yea I’ll never lie I’m not above gossip if only I was a class above the standards instead I’ll invest in a better shovel and a vacuum to decompress my lungs in order to stand another day.
They’re so fake that’s a large mistake claiming others as liars and living beneath a lower bar as if your a truth teller your level of oxygen is bringing us under all that air compressing out your lungs it’s time all your lies have been hung there is to many to be rung out enough water to adverse a drought partaking within politics there are so many take your pick many lies that have settled within their eyes I believe they believe their eyes no longer cry building a life built on the worlds mandates so far in they have no escape and they post pictures of happiness repost quotes of sappiness to their spouses lost within houses and most stop living to be something new instead the goal is forgetting the lonely few forgetting their mistakes for all they know is to be fake.
She had been crafting for years weaving together all their fears a blue hat and a sculpture made of body fat ear muffs to block the profanities a knitted sweater to shelter their insecurities shoes to shrink their swollen feet slimming garments to flatten what they eat.
Her fingers have begun to curl under leaving her thoughts to ponder had she wasted her time in service to others making sure they were fine.
A clock on the wall click click it had begun to stall broken again she grabs a cane she bought for a bargain forcing her feet to stand on the wall she places a hand crack crack she hit it with a loud whack.
She turned it around it let out a brief sound no backing to be found a quick shock she had to regain thought her left hand numb I hate this clock it’s so dumb she banged it on the ground grabbing her cane to knock it around.
“Grandma stop that! It is a fucking rat! Your blind time is clicking by just fine.
Be kind he held the bumper sticker up this time he smirked holding up a fork you mean I should be kind and your free to unwind as long as everyone else is being respectful you don’t have to follow the same rule he shook his head naw if you keep pulling your wrists they’ll go raw.
It wasn’t until recently had I realized I don’t care to stay civilized you’ve never behaved as you told others how and I’ve never been the type to eat a cow recently my hunger has been unattainable and honestly unpredictable.
Watching you with those signs I felt a waste of time It’s ironic I’ve seen you outside many times I’ve taken that ride yet you have no bumper stickers promoting an orphanage nothing stating get these kids adopted I thought all life mattered I suppose not all life is flattered.
He turned on the oven do you know how high to cook a human hmm… I suppose I could search it would I be flagged real quick naw they’re to busy collecting data to sell me this new claw it’s shiny and hooks fantastically thank you he chuckled as the woman stared frantically.
It’s not delicious and defiantly coarse he chewed the taste only became worse eating the evidence was a mistake would the fat mix well in a cake he shook his head this shit is disgusting as his stomach began erupting I definitely wasn’t thinking next time I do this without drinking.
Every channel played a reminder of a time before a constant reminder of the moments of now always trapped within the thoughts of how she made a decision a precise incision the projector continued to play turning off the power would allow her to stray legally they couldn’t switch off her power instead they planted seeds to grow a flower the flower grew bright and blue tampering with the circuit boards replanting memories and strengthening cords slowly she transformed and forgot about the memories that turned until her ears fully ripened ready to open and soaked in the knowledge of a time before rotting out the flower to it’s center core.
Our brains retain every moment unless its deemed to be waste in which the brain busily cleans it away wiping it’s existence triggering us to move forward without a memory of why sometimes what our brain determines waste are still active within other minds memories some brains claim empty and wasteful other brains feed upon because what empowers one person may not empower another.
Entitlement is a thought birthed by torment people are below if they weren’t kept low who’s blood would fill their glasses who would make the paper to wipe their asses who’s sweat would coat the plates of the richest and when they do slip who would be there with the stitches when the others decide they’ve hit their stride and it’s time for them to live below in which they crouch real low and realize entitlement is a term used to mask the true torment that the ones above are all out of love.
Shatter the standards with this hammer splattered in words crack damn that was easy is that liquid red or clear?
Everywhere I go I hear the frustration it’s within me it’s within you it’s within them it’s within us all I hear it I pause don’t get angry today are they here in this store then they’re miserable that’s clear.
I look around there are cameras everywhere who’s winning this I’d love to know the true victor the lonely one going home with a smile no pressure that’s impossible are we your dolls spin us up let us loose watch our fights let us work it out for what for your pleasure for your home?
All the dolls on the street spinning abrupt hit slow it down restock the shelves it falls you ass plant to the ground we do it for us we do it for them?
They gave us this place they gave us our jobs to pay us for our service thanks for the check I have several cards at limit we were made to be their doormat free will movies to drive our goals make us believe we need it all dangling better on a string laughing as you fill your mansions knowing we belong to all of you the one thing I’m unsure of is who you all really are?