A nothing from nowhere cast his words to a world wide wind, hindered by periphery. |
Unnecessary Burden I am…like fucking Atlas over here shouldering a spinning, magnetic mass — counterintuitive black hole rejector — told stand aside, shut it, yet my grimace draws judicious stares, blinking sycophants, angular posturing of the ‘I’m trying to get something done over here’, adding audible groans, ready to instruct how to accept the obligated debt of a boulder grinding my scalp daily, while passersby shove, shoulder, spat upon by those quick and dead, seem to have lived more — taxed more (firmest grip of shared “reality”) — than a carny fool who dares be their spectacle-shadow, unable to accept patronizing, proffered pity equal to contempt on her scale — sacrificial ineptitude, waste of a true immaculate embryo to his wayward-sputtered seeds — grow to bear this weight for no one I’ve ever met, but they sidle, shuffle past without a look, suckle-savor that plastic, white coffee dispenser, it’s lingering steam blown out, wisp of last harvested vintage processed, from some Colombian hillside hauled across a treacherous divide, to consume each brown beans’ last exhaust — that earth consuming cup sinks our sea heavily, jars my arthritic, osteo-vertebrae decay. I have no choice. What could those meek do, but hope scripture true, pray to not join an aisle from stiff-dead, wood pews audible ache, trail to that bully’s pulpit in silent remorse. Accumulated history of negative input that would launch a thousand underworld vampires, living off the degrading cells of my anatomy, reconditioning, sparked as your green mountain despiser of seasonal tidings, find truer love in self-worth and yet prompted like a socialist to serve some common… not a storybook any child should recitate, not fake enough? Swallowing a bilge of mixed apathy, concealed aggression, convert into this new energy, when I toss a dense rock. My hurl does not aim, cannot consider your fate, but the discard of sacrifice to the elitists who suck mother’s teat, slobbering, ghoulish as a younger sibling ready to gesticulate at anything as transgression, hoard all snack … left with none. 5.6.24 and that’s where I ended I consort with what I shouldn’t … and here I am. Ignore the following (unworthy):
My feelings about awards documented long ago with early life struggles that manage to still manifest now. Ego doesn’t preen now, but staunchly defends. I check my reflection more than once daily, with the clearest reflection allowed amidst obstacles. |