A poem/rap verse I wrote last semester in one of my classes. I did a lot of writing in classes last semester, and I wasn't taking notes.

Whatever, see you motherfuckers when I get a life
Or never again if I can first find a wife
lets prepare the breakfast of champions tonight
our diet, full of caloric cowardice
is weighing us down and we can't remember
the last time we didn't weep in December
or march, for that matter
seasonal depression probably isn't the diagnosis
when you can count the months you've haven't cried on an orange's limbs
you're falling now, head under heels
lookin up to the sky for a skirt to see
or were you looking for genitals too warm for your own heat?
there is a place beyond all women's clothing where we've never been
and its more tangible than their metaphysical heart.
you know the place, i've no need to place
a name on the foreign land from which you and i came
never to come and visit again
celibacy for life
introversion for all the hours of day and night
might you face the portion of you that is as fearful
as an abused child, you may shed the skin where scars are
just a word of advice for those who have given up on christ:
take everything for what it is and nothing more;
facades are not a right, desire is not a fight.

i don't fucking feel like it

she, one of many
who agree,
would say,
"you're just not right
for me."

they, some of plenty
who agree,
would say,
"you're just not right
for us."

despondent women
and employers,
love the world,
naive and endearing
boy,
love the world
for what it is for:
existing beyond you;
existing without you;
existing with little regard;
existing.

So who gives
a shit
what you feel
like?

a dream is a dream is a dream

I was pretty much tupac while conducting a train through the city which eventually got to a wall that opened then i was standing before what i felt was the government. But it wasnt the government, it was a group of individuals. then i started freestyling for them and i felt like 2pac all over again. then obama came out of nowhere and gave me his approval. then there was a comparison made between me and this girl in the class who was anti-everything (but i believe she had an underoath tshirt on) whereas i, in the dream, came off as well balanced in my loathing and loving. then suddenly i made conversation with someone i havent seen since high school - who I initially ignored the fuck out of - and a few others. then we were in a math class and i wasnt taking notes but i was getting confused as fuck. i sat behind the girl i mentioned before and said ”i dont have to prove anything to you. you dont have to prove anything to you” after she called me cleverless. its funny i was in a room full of people and she was the only one i was conscious of. the rest of the people there could’ve been mannequins for all my heart cared.

then all of a sudden the class was like a drive in, like we were in a classroom that was more of an auditorium now and we were all in cars lined up. and then for some reason my car couldnt brake if i went in reverse. so i then backed up and tried to gow backwards down a hill then drive forward around a corner once the street was flat. all the while people in their cars are terrified about me backing up unrelentingly. then i was on my feet and walking around. then there was a violinist who was playing over some club music instrumental then when the crescendo hit some harlot ran by like a flood light and started dancing. even in my mind in my dream i made the point inside my head that she’s a loser. then i walked away and now the class i was in before was outside and the chalkboard was just cardboard in a window. and yea thats the dream, it ended there and i’m mostly sad because me and that girl were starting to make a connection, but that always happens in my dream. [/melodrama]

aside from her despondency,

the only reason i'm not begging her for her affection right now is because i dont believe a decision to care should be the product of a plea. It would not only be less authentic, but made out of pity and without an introspective gander at possibilities. but nonetheless, of course i am typical. the another male, led by his dick, and only that, right? right. goodbye womankind, again. see you next time this loneliness gets too strong to keep inside.

my speech/public speaking teacher asked my class if anyone watched the state of the union last night. Every said they didn't. Then she asked why, and the class responded in unison, "work." No enthusiasm, glee, or pride. Just a mundane "work" was said. I find that ironic. People missed an important speech/address/whatever that is supposed to detail the progress, improvement, or just the general state of our society because they were the products of its unfairness and inhumanity. Oh, you cannot write moments of irony like that!

A really beautifully minded girl is rare

normal girls are EVERYWHERE. Ruining my will with their bubbly imagination and sickening love for banality. And to top it all off, special girls are even more hesitant to trust a male. No, I take that back. THat isn't the cherry on top this gloomy sundae, the fact that my hormones know no difference, that my erections have no sense of direction and point to them all is the worst fucking part.

Everyone

is so kind only to themselves.

Where do I fit in between your 'me' ?

An old rap poem verse story novella i wrote and found recently

Excuseme if I seem a little bitter miss,
seems god loves us all but forgot about punishment.
I've only loved womankind and was treated like a piece of shit.
Now my temper fluctuates between horrid and worse.
My first curse words were said prior to this acknowledgement
still helplessly moaned like tomorrow was insignificant
for better or perfect, everyone smiles in fits.
They don't know it, but I see their live's development.
Before they know it, all pride will be artifice.
Their only way of pertinence will be moving about their fist
better get a better god before its all over with
I deserve better, you too, and so the sinking ships
who were lost at sea and had no need to return to shit..
A wise sailor drowns after a long voyage.
A silly one goes back home and wants to do it again.
What have I become, my unsweetest friend?
Everything I've seen is disappearing way before the end.
You can dream today, but tell me if that makes sense
tomorrow when we're all bones among soil and shit

Since you've left,

I've fell for every blond woman I've seen.

Thoughts of the night

1. Far as I can tell, the young admire their favorite artists and individuals. And the more aged, those with greater wisdom, understand and are understood by their favorite artists and individuals. I'm sure there are exceptions in both of those populations. But for the most part, the young are still impressionable and I think that is why they look up to people, even those their age. They still want to become something. And those that are older are carrying such a burden of living, an extremely large case of sorrow and worry and anxiety that they only want to be understood; to be reassured that they aren't the last persons left trying to keep hope alive.

2. These rappers now days are about as real as a hooker's affection. Fuck em, most of em I mean.

3. Living ain't easy unless you're pimping. Displacing the scarce courage of impressionable women and ordering them to fuck for your well being.
Living ain't easy unless you're drug dealing. Playing salesmen to the dolorous, promising for a low price they can purchase, what is in all actuality, worthless.

4. Talk about fucking hypocrisy, how the hell do people love jay-z and lil wayne and all these fuckhead rappers that only reinforce the values of the rich (spend fruitlessly to be happy and proud) in their music, yet disapprove of corrupt politicians and businessmen? The greatest trick the rich played was convincing the poor that the pecuniary ceiling was pregnable. The fuck it is. Capitalism runs on this delusion held dearly by the impoverished, presented daily in movies, music, and tv shows. We believe so little of what we practice, so disturbingly little. All who question anarchy and communism and socialism need to first question their own integrity. You are absolutely right none of those would fucking work because people refuse to criticize their desires and live moderately.

5. I dug into the pocket of my work pants and discovered this little nubmer:

No fish in the sea thou art,
you're a woman with both goals
and failures.
I won't think of or treat you
like you are just anyone
because you're not.
You are
you.
So in the event that I cling faster or longer than
you,
be certain that it meant
that I
cared.

Its not impossible to have too many friends, to know too many people. You'll notice, once you're surrounded by individuals you consider yourself friends with, you cannot directly apply a large part of your personality to them. No one has infinite or even may best friends. People are similar, but even raised in the same culture they are not homogenized and absolutely identical. She told me one can never have too many friends, and I think a sentiment like that comes from the fear of having too little - something I do not fear. I only fret having the wrong friends. And I believe this is emblematic of how casually we seek to part take in each others company. How ordinate we are amongst groups and collectives. I find it sad that we don't even judge something as critical to our mental health as one's compatibility with people they know.

Asking

questions that no one has the courage to answer.

Admission to loneliness statement

I will not charm, I will not entice with dishonesty. I will not be so beguiling, I forget, or never allow a woman I am interested in, see my true self. That is not me, and if I should acquire her heart, or whatever, then I will do so by transcending the friend zone because she has already left that idea altogether. If she should be so concerned with having many a male friends, then I do not want her. If she should consider love so irrelevantly that she'd risk going to bed alone another night, forgoing the possibility that I may very well be the friend and lover in one that she needs, waiting to meet the perfect stranger she probably won't meet, then I do not want her. If I ruin anything, I will do so being myself, and nothing, and no one, else. I will not tease, I will not charm. I will not be cool, I will be calm, resolute and abiding.

I long for a day when we quit admiring people that make the statements we want to live by, and start making the statements ourselves and living by them. What integrity do we have if we are so subject to the whims of society, better known as the mass we compose but do not express ourselves through, that we never become the undertow or vehemently indignant tide forcing banality out of our sights? I have not digressed from my original idea here; if we are to ever love, we must decide to be ourselves and quit pretending. Quit chasing ideals that are not visible even in the slightest capacity in our current reality. And if I must be a fool, or be a stunning, conniving, generic man cordially interacting with the opposite sex so that I may ensure company on my dying day, then I will not have company on my dying day. Being happy and satisfied with life means there is no lack in quantity of what one wants. My life is as simple as that. I will pursue this goal - to be with one I can love and to be someone of emotional value to others - and I will fail or succeed. Feels like Notes From the Underground because I don't even have a reason to, but I will stop here.

Absence is the most personable company we'll ever have. If it is a choice of yours, you are fortunate.

So this one time,

I was about to masturbate and then I thought of her and wept instead.

At this point it is not even her that forces me to brood, not as much as it was for all of about the three months I spent longing for her. Now, I ruminate because I have spent so long feeling sad about her.


Nick Cave more adequately expresses the sentiment: "Every time I see you baby, you make me feel so all alone."

Great Morrissey interview, as they all are

Are you celibate?
Morrissey: "Yes. I'm a devout celibate.
"Initially I had no choice, and it occurred to me that I had been celibate without actually wanting to be, and that angered me, and I became quite bitter and twisted about the whole situation, because I wanted to have a great deal of fun, and I didn't..... so... you can put lots of dots here, implying that he didn't actually finish the sentence. He fell off the chair and started crying."

Why is the fear of sexuality

often synonymous with sexuality itself in america, the one fear that has to result in broadcasting one's triumph over it? And why does the triumph over it include promiscuity?

I have

gone from being shy and thus dishonest with women to believing that there is no point in telling one the truth.

YOu're either a

super or stupid human, they make you a martyr or a terrorist. Despite your efforts, you don't have much to do with it.

A letter to someone I hate

You
fool,
you are an insolent
idiot.
Boorish and malignent,
like a disobedient limb
I'd rather amputate.
You are a clock
that no one reads,
you gauge what
might as well
be immeasurable
and nameless.
In your absence,
I only hope to
hear
the news of
your
death.
Your arrival,
your departure,
your health,
your words, pitiful, annoying,
meaningless words,
and all that you are:
I couldn't possibly
care less about.

My heart

is a whore for lending itself to you fools.

Under her unclothed, I said

you will
never have to
make love
to
yourself
again,
that is
what I'm for.
I want you to
get off
on me.