Why do you write shit?

i write shit because it’s all i know.
i’m sure, if i knew more, it’d still be shit.
then again, that depends on who’s looking.
being art and it’s subjectivity,
anything created has the
potential of being good, or shit.
i make shit because
like my body,
i need to release waste.
i’d sooner be hated
than falsely appreciated.
my shit may sink,
but to whose nose?
we should all continue to
make because it is a source
of inspiration to another.
we all work off the same
shit pile, but we see it
in a slightly different way.
let us plug the toilets,
and defecate on the floor.
maybe then others
will come to recognize
shit from actual shit.

I don’t know

allow me to
point
you in this direction.
don’t follow my lead
though,
this is just what i’ve been told.
i presume scraps of truth
in what’s been said.
reason rests upon
fanciful belief.
belief and fact,
skewed,
impede judgment,
to which each slant levels.
distorted facts contort belief
towards irrationality.
i don’t know what i know.

Misguidance through bad judgment

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.