1053
On your birthday in your birthday suit. I'd pay money just to pay attention to you... somethin somethin.. take this other places.
The reflective glow from the hilltop filled my heart with an important and crucial peace. I feel like I've lost time now. Where the hell did my weekend go? (Sunday breakfast never happens because we are getting to hate each other) My blood doesn't blend here but he thrives. I'm probably just jealous but because I don't like it here, it's a warped jealousy. Wanting something that I never want. It's wanting what I can't have and don't have the heart to have. But damn, would this be fun if I was like him. Damn would college be interesting. I could sweet talk the princess. I could play pool in the pool and feel no regret about any singular action. I could lay in the sun and tan the spaces between my rock hard abs and let a bitch rub the lotion in. I could wear shades that match my shirt, on any day.
It'll be alright. It'll be alright.
Looking at art. Reading books on Thaosist philosophy. These people didn't waste away in institutions. They created masterpieces, distanced. Far from the collegiate conspiracy. Maybe in mental institutions where they would thrive like the geniuses they are but no one will realize until the future.
In Arizona, I am weird.
In Arizona, weird is bad.
Therefore, in Arizona, I am bad.
I am like a plague with my off-kilter comedy
my quips
(saying something and then saying, 'hey wouldn't it be fucked up if someone actually said that?')
Feeling helpless often enough
when i do something random and heartwarming
i get stomped on
I realize what this is
it is a microcosm of all of the worst aspects of my generation
the superficial
the materialistic
"capitalism at it's finest"
the fake tans the tanning beds the double beds
the orgies in dorm rooms
"I'm just trying to get home" says the homeless man without shoes
give him five dollars so he can get himself to a bar
melancholy smiles do nothing
techno music from cars
even a '56 chevy blasted rap
custom subs in the back
a cultural and generational clash of the titans
I wish I was 20 years old (at my prime? that's a terrifying thought)
during the beat generation
I want to live and love with crazy
idealistic writers
who burrow themselves
and hold out in high places through winter
come spring they travel like my legs are dying
I want to spend evenings in jazz clubs.
I want real conversations with real individuals.
I am intellectually stimulated
but NOT by the people
Not in direct conversation.
I stumble over myself.
It may take awhile for me to shake off the cowardice
spreading deep like cobwebs
this is a conditioning facility
and when someone rings that bell
you will slide up slobbering
I find abstract trains of thought
in the fragments of conversation I overhear
I think for our futures sake, my god, what are these cretins going to do with the world?
these people are subhuman
they live in caves
but everyone accepts this as standard
and high school politics all over again
who fucks who fucks who fucks who
gossip from two lips, push up tulips
tomorrow, traffic lights turn blue
who the fuck are you
strange vagrant wanderer
illicit star-eyed dreamer
when she falls i cant catch her
my arms two thousand miles longer
so gravity can't hurt her anymore
but i resist the temptation
bottle up frustration
and find that even my favorite,
most intimate moments are being systematically destroyed
by the sun and the days left in this trap
i feel the pressure from all directions
crushing me but not shaping a model body
leaving me disfigured, let me move to notre dame
it would probably feel the same
who cares if they are pretentious
i need to surround myself with people
who at least PRETEND to be smart
they can lift me higher
we can talk and learn from each other
here I have nothing
I have no one
and with a ticket for Radiohead up for grabs I wonder who I will ruin
