A touch of shame

i touch myself at night
because i don’t feel as guilty
during the open eyes of the awake.

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Thank you virtuality

I want to thank those who’ve attempted in understanding.
then again, i’m not difficult,
just incoherent.
properly expressed,
many would fine me redundant.
i’m a graphic designer using his hand
at written lines,
not those drawn.
mind you, i have tools for assistance.
then again, those who have written before me
pose as tools from present written creation.
i just want to make it clear i appreciate
all those who’ve been bothered to press
the like button.
i like those who have and who have not.
without those who do and don’t,
i would not be who i am.
the do’s and don’t make the
can’s and cannot’s a reality.

Connecting through obstruction

it’s strange the amount of time i’ve spent caressed by other’s ideals. but upon consumption, interpretation of said/written words leave me feeling dumb. what’s with the jargon? never mind, it’s a specialty. we need this to distinguish those that have to those that have not. we could feel the same thing, but without the proper terminology, we are alien. i’ve always looked to myself for feeling, but if it does not correspond to those who’ve “affirmed” it through print, i must be misusing what i’ve understood. to me, understanding is a matter of sitting. i guess i can say this because the experience i’ve learned has been through reading. my experience has run counter to what i’ve been taught. am i wrong, or are they wrong? what if we’re both wrong, or maybe we’re both right? the majority doesn’t include the minority, otherwise it wouldn’t be a majority. but doesn’t that make it discriminatory? inclusion requires all and not just the majority. how can satisfaction be brought to all? i don’t think equality will be possible when difference is our similarity. until we recognize¬† different being out relation, inclusion is not fully realized. we may tolerate or permit it, but we’ll not fully live it. we require sameness, but that’s control, something unnatural. i’m just as guilty as the next in my lack of inclusion. i see difference as opposite rather than addition. we all add something, and our disconnect is detrimental.

Masturbation touches me more than regurgitation

i’ll concede my improper use of language.
i have no knowledge of what i speak,
nor write, yet i take comfort in
the babble of incoherence.
i guess that my misappropriation of meaning
gains validation in its disjointed being.
it’s easier to spout junk,
than to create.
the garbage i vomit
comforts me more than
the trash i compose.
be it rehearsed or spontaneous,
it comes from the same source.
i should be thankful for both,
at least something is made.
my eloquence runs smooth
like a serrated knife along a fine vein.
the blood spilled
showcases my dexterity.
i indulge in things i do not understand,
but do so out of interest.
my ideals overshadow my talent,
yet i create out of habit.
drawing lines are easier than
those written, but written has more
opportunity displaying intelligence.
everything has an intelligence,
mine just so happens to be below what is
socially respectable for one of creation.
yet, creation is available to those of will.
intelligence is man made,
will is natural.
one can improve one’s aptitude,
but is it mimicry,
or actually understanding?
if i copy, i hope i’m able to
express my understanding.
otherwise my attempt is futile.
if i cannot what i’ve digested,
and create my own understanding,
i’ve not understood anything
but the art of copying.
at least i know how to touch myself.
maybe that’s all i need to feel whole.
or maybe i need an actual hole.

Sex more important than talent

i’m trying to be more consistent.
i treat a woman like i would a man.
to me, they are just people,
which each person has their idiosyncrasies.
socially defined by sex, i try to look past that.
not always like i should,
but i’ll blame that on someone else.
skill, hard work, determination, or any other
value has no sexual orientation.
so why should i put a value upon one’s sex?
to the most qualified and competent
should the job be awarded.
if blind, we’d might have more of an appreciation,
maybe even understanding/sympathy,
of the person to which we’re interacting with.
Sadly, my initial judgement gets cloudy by
past winds of misinterpretations.
our first impressions dictate
our future misjudgement.
sex has no recourse in competence,
that is a matter of skill and knowledge
inequality propagates doubt and negativity,
when both male and female are
borne to err.

Art of a habit

i must apologize,
i’m touching myself again.
it’s hard not to.
i’m plagued with an insatiable urge,
but once entertained,
it passes.
trying to ignore it,
makes me focus on it more.
creativity is much the same to me,
i’ll have urges that come in waves,
and i tend them when i need.
it seems i have more habits
than i realize.

Unfair treatment of cleaning products

would you feel comfortable if you knew that every inanimate object you have in your possession is actually a living thing? i usually think like this, more specifically about cleaning tools. take the vacuum for instance, do you really want to be sticking you head in dirty dark corners of a basement or have your face run along a spill splattered floor? I feel guilty for subjecting them to their established utility because i’m just using them out of laziness. although, i guess i can’t feel to guilty for using them, seeings how i continually employ them. if they didn’t do such a great job, i would have no need for their services. luckily i don’t want to clean, so i use a tool to do my work. i can only hope that the vacuum doesn’t talk to the plunger. no reason for a strike.

Be kind to your bathtub

i’ve got lint between my toes.
it doesn’t bother me so much.
i think my bathtub minds, though.
water being the main
source of consumption,
i’m sure its not happy
with foreign objects.
i know that hair makes it sick.
well, it’s got to be a lot of hair.
and not short hair, long hair.
there’s only so much it can take
before the dirt returns.
and remember
delint before bathing,
no need for messes.