concrete and cruelty, insult to injury "this means that, no never mind" changing shit faster, than the passage of time "do this, then that", "no actually, it's that, then this... what's that?"... look who's talking and look who ain't blonde bitch, dumb ass watch as her underlings, start licking her "quaint" the "not there" space between her pussy and ass and those that do, they'll be given, a pass security, paycheck, in a time of pandemic, watch it spread while the rest of us, carted out left to wonder, what hell, comes next treated like we were disposable trash with keys left, and a "we care" my ass no one knows what's going on, like being blindsided by a hand job, conned into thinking there was payoff, a wad if we worked hard, be it a bonus or a chance for advance, valued, valiant, "good cause" job but as the days and months dragged on, the shit show proved endless, as the days grew long there was only one light, that I could see just "some guy" I met, paired up, he and me to work together and give it our all slowly realizing this all seemed predestined to fall... apart, from the start but this guy, Jesus fuck, like a radiant art of complexity and dangerous destructive in his perceptive way, with this need to free himself, this prison of bull shit, all around us, society's structures like a constant blow to his skull raging out, but reigning, kind two "mates", in "soul" who'd already lost their minds in different ways, with different shades no, not that garbage, titled "50 of grey" that's for "the normals" who feed and froth, off the top they skim the soul of everything like not actually hearing the words in the songs they all sing seems we ended up, quite a pair seeing, smelling the stench, of the stale in the air air that offered no bright spot, believe except for me, in that I loved and lived his "receive" as in the feeling, if fleeting, that he "got me" and liked all of my crazy and anxiety ridden mood spikes deriding from the challenge of being out in the world driving blind, my inner compass lost tangled up in his torn, I found all preconceived notions, him, tossed to the wind and back again his song, so sung, I never wanted it to end but then one day, we were given the boot he laughed, we cried, called this whole thing "a hoot" as in more "holler" than caller of a conquest made possible not in a place this chaotic, just this side of, kind of awful funny thing is, he said he loved chaos and he found it, this KWAR and in me, all these emotions risen forth for him, all the more time we spent trapped, like the "stockholm" in "syndrome" but who's the captor, who's the captured, that secret, I surrender, I know, but never will receive the real answer could be one, or could be the other could be, amongst the heightened strain, just two brothers battling this war called KFuck, Ktwat like sand through the hand he, the one thing, no regrets no "for naught" found him, loved him watched him fly lost him, slayed, when I saw the tears pour out his eyes struck me in a way I cannot quite escape from, forget see what happens, some strange, sweet, kind of magic even if surrounded and swamped in a sea of Kshit. bowen hart roselli 31 march 2020 ringwald love
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
the realm of the poetic.
prisoner of the psyche and the inescapable. heart. Archives
January 2021
Categories |