Sometimes..

Sometimes i just wanna eat a bunch of pills and smash the bottle over my head until i bleed out a chemical spill. I'm a walking time capsule buried in my thoughts. If I'm just a moment in time i'd rather smash the clock. Sometimes i'd rather be forgot, because your memory is my memory and that's all of you that i got. I see the future and i am its past. Sometimes i wish i were the beach where your waves crashed instead of a cracked image in a faded photograph.

Sometimes i wanna lose my temper, walk in to a crowded building and..Fuck! i can't remember. Sometimes i take too many pills and that's why i can't remember. Sometimes i don't wanna remember because the eyes are still tender. Melting through an endless reel of my soul being dismembered. Sometimes i wanna be weak. I find myself floating above the stairs cuz i cringe everytime i feel the wood creak. Stop noticing me, I'll be gone in a blink, don't speak of me, sometimes i wish i didn't think. Sometimes i don't remember.

Sometimes all it takes is a picture to stall the machine as the human inside tries to wipe the face clean. I hate to impede, but sometimes i wish you were here so you could watch me bleed. Stop me please. Sometimes i scratch the surface of your forgotten hypothesis and realized you were right, that i was the remedy. Sometimes i take more pills. Sometimes i boil water till my imaginations overfilled. Sometimes i pine for atrophy, and sometimes i kill my shadow as i sleep happily. Sometimes i can love. Sometimes i cough blood. sometimes i listen for clues to remember what i was, but the current never comes back. All i hear is foaming waves sweeping rocks under the pedals from the lilacs. sometimes i don't remember.

#Icantbreathe

I can't breathe. It's more than just the asthma and floating ragweed.
I can't breathe. It's the humanity dying right in front of me,
 the inanity constricting on the throats of our sanity.
I can't breathe. It's the tears I'm choking back,
our streets are painted black with red filling in the cracks and i'm not ok with that.
I can't breathe. Has anyone seen my inhaler? don't shoot just reaching for air. but you wouldn't care.
I can't breathe. there's too much pollution. Sorry Darwin, but humans have suffocated your theory of evolution.
I can't breathe. you've chopped all the trees, should have swung at the knees, if only he were lighter a few degrees.
I can't breathe. I've been coughing up blood. Serve and protect themselves well next of kin drops tears in mud.
I can't breathe. Justice is blind. Unless your skin's darker than mine. You're more likely to be fitted for a pine where as i'd just pay a fine. Sweet Lucy, never meant for this.
I can't breathe. cuz the rich are making money hand over fist. While they watch us kill each other so that they can exist.
I can't breathe. How can one be safe? when the people we elect blame the victims who are raped. The people who "protect" us won't allow air to escape. time to rename it the United Police States.
I can't breathe. Way too much hate. 11 times he pleaded, why'd you have to subjugate? You broke an oath, and now a family. My fists are up,  you don't fucking scare me.

post script.

It's all gone wrong, man. Everything's been corrupted and destroyed beyond reproach. Something as so simple as loving yourself and others as we go through our brief journeys on this plain. We're just visitors. Tourists who are supposed to be enjoying the scenery and the company of others. We took something so simple and we smashed it into a billion complex pieces and watched it bleed into our descendant's purity, and we did nothing. We're all gonna die, man. Why hand this great gift over to our progeny as it crumbles in flames? Flames we lit because we would rather no one have, if we couldn't have. We were given everything and we still wanted more. We burned this place to the ground because we wanted more. We killed our own species for more. We trampled the scenery and stabbed our mother earth in the heart with industry and the notion that prosperity meant taking from something without giving back.
They ate at the table with kings while millions outside their doors starved. They raised the cost but stripped us of our value. They gave us the scraps  to appease and distract. They gave us shiny objects to look in to while they robbed, raped and murdered us. They put us against each other while they sat on their thrones of ivory and laws and counted their money, while discounting us.
The meek didn't inherit the earth. The earth inherited the meek. And i laugh. I laugh  because all the sheep walking in a straight line, believing they are free, are headed to their own slaughter. Deep down they know this, but they've grown so complacent, and defeated that they no longer know better. They trudge aimlessly toward the hell they created. This is the hell they built, bled and died over. This is the hell they were told they'd never see because they were sold a dream. They were sold a dream and a handful of beans. All they had to do was offer their soul and allegiance to the nameless, faceless machine. They gave their values, dignity, sweat and tears for a drunk promise. And when they had nothing left, that nameless faceless machine marched them towards hell. There was no fight. No dissent.
Up until that final step before they were pushed in to that polluted, fiery ravine they still believed they were free. They believed they were doing the right thing. For some greater good, that was nor great or good. And as they rotted below the machine grew stronger. The machine had more, and with less to share it with. (Not that they would share to begin with.) That brass ring they hung above was nothing more than a door handle to the draw bridge that would crush us before we could reach our promised land. We became the rock garden. The stepping stones. Fighting and killing for what we don't need, because they convinced us we needed. They need us and we didn't see that. We were the numbers. We were the strength. They had the paper. Silly little paper that we let weigh us down. We let drown us in debt. We were scared of their paper. We foolishly wanted their paper. We wanted to be the machine.
And they fed off our hope and spit us back out in to the ashes.
It's gone now, man. The hope, the strength.  The buzzards circle over humanity and i sit on the edge of a cliff with my bottle of pills and a notebook. I never wanted their paper. I was just happy to be here. To visit. They can push me off the cliff into the sea of broken promises. But my hope stays with me. They couldn't kill that. I never had so i never wanted. When I'm old and grey, breathing my last mist. I will shut my eyes in defiance because i never lived blind. My death will mean that i lived. It will be a "fuck you" to the nameless, faceless machine. Even though it's gone now. The last shred of humanity in the world. I've got something they can't take. Something you can't buy, or kill, or discriminate against. I got something you can't oppress. I've got a goddamn soul. And may it carry on through the universe like a lone butterfly threading a needle. I didn't let the world corrupt me.

The things that i miss.

So tired. I miss the Laundromat with the wooden panel walls. I miss the simplicity, my tape deck , and searching. I miss walking through a crowd and breathing. I miss yelling across the street to greet someone i hadn't seen in ages. I miss the future. I miss losing my voice. I miss walking trails and looking up. The smell of moldy rocks, damp leaves, and the sun using its appendages to peek through the branches.  I miss that sinking feeling when rejection approaches. I miss using my senses.

I miss riding my bike while eating a slice of pizza and not telling anyone about it. I miss holding photographs and reliving what they captured. I miss being there. I miss looking at my wrist watch for the time, or getting an idea based on the tides. I miss stopping and taking a minute. I miss waiting, anticipation and spontaneity. I miss not being angry at the over abundance of information, negativity, and social climate change being wired into my conscience by a billion electron beams from a billion sources of media. I miss knowing, but being able to escape in to a state of reality with the simple bounce of a basketball or the flick of a light switch..  I miss the sound of my pick-up truck's tires crushing pebbles on unknown roads. I miss mystery. I miss calling a friend. I miss simplicity. So tired.