what’s the
difference
between
a whore
and
a pig?
species?
excuse
my
beef.
what’s the
difference
between
a whore
and
a pig?
species?
excuse
my
beef.
holding sand is easier,
sieve
selectively
straining
soured situations
so such
scenarios
shan’t
subvert
subsistence
than trying to grab it.
individual value
compromises for the whole
estimates generalized
as a means of measure
commonality speaks constraint
appreciate the path presented
modify to better suite
accept the end
as a means to live
cyclically spinning,
a rudimentary redundancy.
traps unavoidable,
unless…
stop.
that which revolves, will
that which doesn’t, won’t.
spinning oneself sick
absolves not a thing.
in the end,
you just have
a mess to clean.
what is the function of life?
to live, perpetuate, sustain.
devoid of meaning,
life lives for another
life after death.
the start realizes its end
when it begins again.
life lives without meaning
towards a death imaginary.
we must live as though
we’ve already died,
fear not, death
cannot strike twice.
i did it again.
i can’t help it.
i’m with myself,
i had to do it.
it’s something i’ve developed.
i tried to stop,
but i can’t.
i just have to accept,
i play with myself.
my extended hand,
it’s motion,
deters an others grasp.
hey, i washed and
i was courteous about it,
why the apprehension?
oh, maybe i wasn’t clear.
but how can i be
when i’m solid.
excuse me for my pace, i’m slow. as for my vision, everything is a bit off center. i didn’t know that its all transitory. when i was young, everything belonged to me. as the years passed, and i grew older, i began to lose what i thought was mine. these losses expounded change as the only constant and i don’t owe a damned thing. for me, change has been a difficult thing when routine has become a habit of normalcy. i’ve been prolonged in accepting that things are not inherently bad, but the judgments i hold are bad. i cannot control the external, it’s just not in my ability or power. although, what i think i can control, and with that in mind, what happens outside of my sphere of choice is not for me to comment. sadly, i continue to comment which i’ve mistakenly turned into a habit. i speak garbage that unnecessarily pollutes, first and foremost myself, and than those around me. i must silence myself to let what is, be and act accordingly.