figurine

we build up these churches, castles and bridges
so tall, taller than we'll ever be
we cast strangers, friends and lovers in images
too perfect to coexist, sadly
our fantasies seem to be in constant war with our realities
it's impossible to measure up to monuments
heaven forbid one should aspire to
there is an abundance of beauty found among figurines
the secret is to constantly search for and admire
the childishness and vulnerability inside of you
it's what makes us small
so small, smaller than God will ever be
it's what makes us need
it's what makes us weak
yes, it's sobering to strip and cleanse away
the tired, heavy nuances of yesterday
I will never be a momument
I will never want to be
I will always be a figurine
imperfect, human
I will always be okay
all I ask for is all that I will give
love, acceptance and understanding
never be beyond reach 

animal

you're woven and tangled, sliding through and into knots

spineless and charming, oblivious to costs

there's an element of toxicity that brings me to my knees

it's your bite that encourages each one of my pleas

as I surrender to another fight and swallow my means

to reestablish, or at the very least, to attempt and maintain any level of worth

this thing called dignity

I don't know why you would do this

please let me think

I haven't in so long

I must be on the brink

my heart must be gone

I no longer like snakes

I never cared for words

disappointment

there isn't another

as absurd as yours

your voice reiterates such delicate murmurs

enough to hide those claws which retract

yeah, it soothes and purrs

but in a glimpse, the midst of a nanosecond

they rise like your screams and are used to attack

I fall down, panic, unable to protect myself

from the damage it causes, of course I react

I don't know why you would say that

please let me ask

what I'm using you for

I was ready to bask in devotion

I wasn't ready for war

of the sexes, sex for short

I no longer like kittens

I never heard the word "no"

support

shouldn't be scripted

or used as a last resort

i'm over it

Human beings are not often kind unless they are mourning

I have yet to ask how it always comes to this
perhaps, I dare to know the answer:

People are pretty, people are delicate
the very replica of God himself
they remain so pretty and so vulnerable
not when they are unearthed but rather when they sit upon a shelf
quietly

These figures triple for packaged toys that have never once been opened
The term limited supply has haunted every artist who has died that went on to make a fortune
It was the heart of their work that has never once been considered
Just those pretty, pretty colours, in those pretty, pretty frames to hang in your pretty home, "oh, you have one of those? Such a rarerity, I know, it must be a masterpiece."
Even still there is no value placed on thoughtful speech or honesty of character
both of which are also practically extinct
But somehow, I walk around feeling like the Dodo...

stagnant,
black,
and hallow

I have yet to know how it always comes to this
perhaps, I dare to ask the question:

When our bravodo wears thin and our cancer spreads,
the chase is infinite and the power treads,
somewhere further from our hands, of what is it are we left?

Oh, two eyes to see that ugliness is a direct result of our vanity, ten fingers to count the trivial things we place on priority like staying composed so we never know yeah, can hardly tell how much we are like compost rotting in the dirt alone...

bankrupt

A briefcase is a sign of success

so is an M16.

A man who carries either

is of the same caliber indeed.

But that's enough talk of

capitalism, yeah

I'm so fucking tired of hearing about wallstreet.

if this is how it stays, i don't want to.

One of few times my heart really aches is when I see elderly people carrying their own groceries from the store, onto public transit, back to their apartment/retirement building alone. I am thankful to know somewhere inside me is someone compassionate enough to feel and desire the dignity I barely salvage myself today. I struggle when I discover 'a lack of dignity' is often found amongst pity rather than an appreciation for natural aging, independence and wisdom. I may be a perpetual stigma taught only to see the negativity of what I do not personally embody. My sympathy stems further sometimes: I remember passing a woman in the afternoon with two of my closest friends. The sun was out, patios were open and the streets were noisy with laughter; real engagement of all those who passed by in conversing groups. She sat on a corner beyond the sidewalk near some bushes you could see through. I noticed as everyone made their way past where she and her plastic black garbage bag sat that no one else glanced in her direction. She did not avert her gaze from straight ahead despite the fact it did not seem like she was staring at anything in particular. Her hair was stringy, her skin was burned brown and her eyes remained as vacant as the target they fired towards. I proceeded and said nothing. How does someone any age, let alone the half way mark, find themselves so disconnected and different from the rest of the world if I may be so ignorant as to call it that? How can someone lose their home, personal hygiene, role and support system as to be left on a corner beyond the sidewalk near some bushes you could see but are not likely to look through? I do not believe it is a choice but I understand there are many people who will dispute this. The sun is out and I get sad that she might get sad over the beautiful weather which often puts pressure on one to be joyous, which makes those who are not, lonely enough to die. Maybe she is experiencing a reality of complete liberation but we must all, in some sense, long for relation above all else? Maybe she is experiencing such a magnitude of relation within herself. Maybe it happens to be more than enough, more than we ourselves will ever gain. But maybe instead, a fear of god and an infuriating sense of survival are the causes of voices in her head screaming, "why am I still here? Why have You not let me die? Why have You not killed me yet?"

i'm not in it for the long haul





god's will

caught in a downpour
so you can't tell the difference
a second warning
could be a blessing
when there are none
if i'm trapped
there's no burden of decision
yeah, they could be right
maybe i don't listen
too soft for travels
too wild for commitment
too misunderstood
to belong
too jaded to care
there's always room for dissatisfaction
i'm not the star
they said i'd be
in the middle of the universe
coming down
saturated on top of me
i got that attitude
snark
tone
& expression
every one of 'em gets me in trouble
i must like it
to chase is to catch
bad spoils
rotten batch
you know, you don't know me
wish i could
forget what's happened to me
the little victim
in the rape & murder trilogy
made for your entertainment
i
retain
absolutely
no
identity
so
call me jane doe
i'm not your friend
a stapled foe
the chronic scapegoat
ready for slaughter
at the hands of defeat
another piece of dispensable meat
wish i was born
as an equal human being
rather than be subject to speciesism
but i remain
lesser than a stranger
call it compulsion
or claim internal anger
fact is
without reason
there is danger
...i live in fear

gravol

dreams & hallucinations
the stepping stones of reality
i must be dreaming
this can't be happening
oh, 'spose it really is
my life
my leg jerks from the bottomless falls
which startle me
my soul aches from the sight of ghosts
who follow me
now, don't you dare
don't you dare forget about me
but they're just figments
like sleeping hearts
averted gazes
he said she said mentalities
& self-fulfilling prophecies
but i swore that i was real
that this life counted for something beyond
self-talk & affirmations
to create a different realm of truth
bound to destruction
sabotage
& loathing
because i have a cynical mind
am alone all the time
& haven't got a clue
how rarely people really think about you
now, please be nice
please be nice when you talk about me
i'm made of sensitivity
i may make it easy
but easy & good
never work in tandem
because nothing ever is
how it should be
& i never am
who i could be
figments
figments
figments

shoebox

it may be cheap

it may be tenderless

we may seldom know
we may seldom see

light before nor
after dawn
but i bet it'll be fun

until it isn't anymore
go ahead &
rip my heart open

holy fucking shit, am i ever scared of dying &/or living forever in eternity. . .

this seems familiar/i'm going to shut you all out

I'm not sure how I feel about you, me, us or them. I've had some tough times, rough ends. I've been the bottom of the barrel with loose ends I can't mend. I won't settle again for half-hearted love or fair weathered friends. I said I'd be there for you. Forget cost, time and convenience. I talked about my Mother with brutal honesty, shared secrets to the depths of my soul, close to me. I stated what scared me, amongst dying and lonliness. I listened to your fears, those skeletons in your closests without passing judgements. I always found strength where you found cowards crying, told you it's better to feel pain than to keep lying about what causes you happiness. That's all I wanted for you, what I've wished to achieve within me, to one day create all around me. Looks like I've been sinking, falling down, drowning oh, let's just say suffocating. I forgot how to share my own weight, it's been disproportioned. I'll carry yours, I'll listen. I've been burying, in hopes of hiding, what troubles me. Somehow, its been resurrected, exhumed. I can't be the only one who empathises with you, let alone anyone at all. I have continued to fall without notice due to this, due to that accomplishment. Where do I stand? Maybe, I'm just another make-shift role model on a good day. Maybe, I'm just another make-shift role model on paper. It shouldn't matter, might as well forget the gravity, severity and sovereignty of loss. This is just another piece I can't finish or keep going like friendships and relationships in whatever context you like. I used to have will, a reason to fight but her heart stopped yeah, he stopped picking up. I suppose it comes back to me, the double-edge scrunity of trying to be better. In the end, in-between, I only, I always lose. If I gave you an ultimatum, what would you choose? I suppose it's better that we both go without. It may save you some heartache, grief and misunderstanding. I seldom provide anything whole or complete, these never-ending complexities when put simply is my own irrationality; in hopes of finding, in being worthy of acceptance and love (yours as well as mine). I lost it some time ago. I don't know where it went. I don't know a lot of things... The peace of mind sanity/normality brings...