aware

Not my best, if such a thing exists at the intersection of “good” and “my work”. I blame random word generators.


Aware, Constraint, Defend, Pay, Particle, Village, Lift, Stir, Slice, Straighten, Climate, Bounce, Unlike, Brush, Attachment, Random, Shoulder, Link, Paper, Bald


Struggling to stay aware

The world around me acts more as a constraint

Held down by those seeking to defend

The brutality of the piper’s pay

I am but a particle

A grain of sand in this global village

But give me time, I will lift us all up

Sand can become sandstone, sand can stir into storms

I am how I am sliced

Straightened out by society

A product of this climate of fear and entitlement

Another one thrown into a world unable to bounce

Landing on my face unlike the others

Nothing but a brush and a canvas to tell my tale

Never get too in, avoid all attachment

The random number generator of life’s lottery

Will cost you a leg and an arm, then come back for the shoulder

Because until we can all chain together we’re nothing but loose links

Numbers on the paper of powerful men looking to exploit us

Selling us their bald faced lies about some dream

Houses are unaffordable, cars are too expensive, love is unattainable and lust is still unavoidable

So what am I to do but try and remain aware

I am just a piece of a puzzle no-one is solving.

 

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Feign

To feign innocence,

Worshipping in the fane of ignorance

Appealing to the vain interest

So pro-vane how pro-fan we get

Throwing out the sane

To install the reign

Of our own particular brand of theign

Never mind that both will rain death

It’s a vein illness

We rein in the wellness

Becoming soulless constructs of vainglorious

Sentiments against the sentimentality

Of making sure we all gain

Never be a socialist, socialism died along with social awareness

Instead submit to be the instrument

That instruct destruction and insane villainness

Follow your faith, blind and devout

You’ll figure it out eventually

They don’t care about your personality

You are a body to throw into the grinder

As opium is to the addict

Religion is to the theign

There is nothing to gain

But we hit up all the same, just for that fleeting moment

Of feeling good, feeling level, feeling sane

But sanity is not predicated on mass consensus

In a world of addicts, is the sober man the crazy one

In a world full of guns, the bullet is the one to blame

So feign your ignorance

Politics is a dirty word, never bring it up

In polit-e company.

matter

more word association this week.
matter.


Does it mean much to you
that space compresses time
so much so that light bends backwards in vacuums
visiting places before it has visited them
accumulating mass
filling points on the fabric of reality
warping matter into black holes
like the hole you left in my heart.

Domestic.

2017-10-03.


Midnight in mid-urbia. Domesticated animals prowl the streets. Street-lamps flicker. Cars line the asphalt. Driving home from the shops, chicken stink washed down by star-light air. Oxygen rich, poor in everything else, two enter a cold house. No lights, no need. Ninja up the creaky stairs. Sit silent, devouring the burgers and cola. Not the best kind of date, but one of them. Being together more than makes up for it. Dawn in the window, finish dinner. Lie on down, the bed is soft. Forbidden romance, chicken dinner. There is probably a metaphor in there.

Unromanced.

2017-10-02. 98 words.


Irradiated parking space, the night sky’s skin bleeds points of light through soft vapour. Thick concrete, asphalt, metal boxes lining the streets. Step from parlour to park, medicinal light floods the shop where the chickens burn. Greasy animals, the sun slowly cooks everyone, others cannot wait. Find a way to beat the heat death, randomly generate entropy in your innards. Sit on the hood of a car, metal metaphors for parts unknown. Huff cigarettes, puff clouds. Soft fucking dreams of middle-urbian chicken shops and waiting on an animal to walk back into life. Chicken burgers, coca-cola. Life unromantic.

Daily. 21/03/2017.

Prompt: Lit Up by The National.

###

I press myself against the wall. Try not to stand out.
You stand there in all your friends. Laugh at something dumb.
I dream of being here all the time. The best part of sleep.
I’ll be dreaming a while longer.

Sand blonde hair gets me going. I can’t even tell you.
You’re like an angel amongst demons. So lost and afraid.
I dream of being with you, always. The only dream I have.
That might be a little sad.

I slip of the wall and creep over. I try to blend in.
Everyone notices immediately, I’m fucked. But you smile real nice.
“Hey, where’ve you been all night?”
My heart skips a beat.
“I’ve been here, just chilling, you know?”

They all look at me like I’m crazy. I’m so goddamn fucked.
But you just laugh and shrug, like no big deal. I almost die.
“I’m glad someone can have some fun.”
I don’t get what you mean.
Your friend starts saying, “So anyway.”

So, I’m in? Am I? Really? Fuck me. I never even really expected I’d get along with your friends. I’ve got… nothing. Nothing. At all. I’m doomed.

But then I start thinking of how I was just myself, just like everyone is always telling me. I spent so many years just trying to be cool, trying to be in my head and thinking of everything. I know you’re just another human being with like thoughts and dreams and shit but… why did I spent so god damn long trying to impress her if. I can just be myself – fuck… those afternoon specials I always laughed at were right.

Then you catch my attention with a wink. Is that to me?
My mind is racing again and I try not to let it. But I’m still here. Stuck in a crowd I have no clue about. And I’ve missed half the conversation. At least no-one is expecting anything from me.

“Him, really?” “Yeah, him.” “Why him?” “Dunno.”
You are talking about someone with a sly grin on your lips.
“I mean…” “Come on.” “What?” “Seriously?” “I like him.”

I realise you are talking about someone else. But that’s alright. I still want to be friends, you’re cool. Then again, your friends… I wonder what they’re into, how I can connect. Is that stupid of me? I mean, look at them all fancy and shit.

Meanwhile, I’m in my head and I’m thinking about trying to make friends with people. If I don’t I get so twisted up that I can feel myself choking. Like, anxiety hits me so hard that I freeze up mid-sentence. And that’d just make me look stupid, oh shit, I look stupid don’t I? “Hey, Luke, right? You coming back to my place for the after party?”

I snap up. Her name… Wanda? Maybe. I don’t know her name, shit… I struggle to think of it and nothing comes to mind but fucking Ws. Wendy? Wenona? Whitney? Wilma? “Uh, can I?”

I resist the urge to run away screaming. She smiles approvingly. “I’m Karen by the way,” she tells me. I turn my head away. “It’ll just be a few of us, nothing too big.” She smiles again, melting. “You know, if you’re keen.”

“Yeah, I am.” I am. “Sweet then.” “Yeah, sweet.” A few hours pass as I blend in, Karen hangs out with me all night as you fade into the crowd. I’m cool. I’m chill. Relaxed. Calm as. Calm as fuck.

Then we head over to Karen’s place for a little while longer. Midnight goes and we’re out in the backyard. One AM hits and it’s just me and Karen while everyone is inside asleep. I’m glad I’m so in my head, because this’d be fucking hard.
“This was cool. You’re a cool guy. Like, real chill.”
“Yeah, uh thanks. This was pretty nice, you’re pretty – nice.”

She just smiles. Leans in. Kisses me. On the lips.
I cup her cheek with my hand, she is deep cold from the frigid morning air. So sweet. So clever. So pretty. I’m swimming. In my anxiety.