I’m probably disgusting. Traipsing about in ratty clothing, letting my unmentionables jiggle. Speaking my opinions as if there’s a person in the world that gives a damn. Shaving the sides of my head while I let my pit hair grow. Continue reading RE:ality
Category Archives: Art
The Hulkette
I keep my anger in check for the most part. I’m furious with so much of the world, at my own existence, so much of the time I forget it’s there. I don’t feel like Mark Ruffalo really delivered the line to its full potential – I’m always angry. I think it’s why I can walk the streets unmolested almost anywhere. The poor fool that triggers me and unleashes this level of repression might just get his ass killed. At minimum, gravely wounded. Continue reading The Hulkette
Roeses
Bouquets of fish eggs
Sloshing and slippery
Dripping
Oozing
Plopping off the ends
Of baby’s breath
Small globes of salty trust
Waiting for life
Wasted
Like sperm in a sock
Silently washed
Forgotten
Aborted
From thought
I’m bleeding now
Isn’t that enough
You want more?
Let me see
(feels self)
I have a tiny bit
more to give
But you have to stop
When I say
STOP
If I say go
GO
But,
Please don’t go.
I’m alone without you.
I don’t know what to do
without you
Until
I meet someone else
They ask why I try
They ask what I want
I say I don’t know
Because
I love you
But I don’t
Want to do this again.
Feel this low.
Know this pain.
I can help you
She says.
I want to believe
I want to
LET GO
To do that is simple
Every time you almost care
Take a shot.
(gulp)
If you look around
And everything still seems
useless
(gulp)
Rinse.
Repeat.
Survive.
That’s all you need.
(gulp)
What’s My Name Bitch
No one really knows. Not knowing names keeps me level with everyone. I don’t get too attached. I’d rather know your dog’s name. I’m more likely to like your dog. The people I get along with are usually dog owners. My idea of interesting conversation makes most people uncomfortable. It’s like a rabbit hole and if you aren’t used to free-falling within a stranger’s consciousness it can be a little overwhelming at times. But that’s when I feel the most connection, that point where most shy away. Continue reading What’s My Name Bitch
Mercy Seat
How should we do this?
Tell you about my faults?
Fears?
Mind killers?
Why should you care?
Apathy isn’t a super power
Any more than laziness is a skill
Languishing in pain
Waiting for someone
anyone
to notice me.
See me doing such a great job
Holding it together.
I don’t blame my mother
Any more than I blame her mother
Growing up in an sectional world
Living in a time
Witnessing crimes
People already spoke against
Ages ahead of my birth.
Why then?
Can’t I say it’s wrong
Still.
Progress is HARD
and SLOW
Especially that last bit
After the real conflict.
During the time children
Take for granted
Things my generation
watched happen.
Sometimes lack of conflict
Is characterized by the silence
I’m told to keep.
Others reject any semblance
Of what they used to resemble
And claim progress.
As if the shadow
Of who we are
Isn’t connected
To where we were.
Want to hear about my failures?
Crazy Talk
I’m legit crazy. I’ve taken Prozac for the past two and half years to combat my ailment. I have another drug I take to keep my mood level because I’m not bipolar but still have self-destructive mania if I can’t keep it together. My hope is to find regular employment and be self-sufficient. This feels so impossible I’ve started self-identifying as disabled on my job applications. It only seems fair to warn them about my crazy. Continue reading Crazy Talk
Cancerous
Walking around in public,
Struggling to keep it together.
A massive burden I’m carrying
around like it’s not there.
Parading invisibly naked,
as if I’m a regular human.
Knowling I’m going to die.
The perspective of a statistic.
Never seen and rarely heard
Fulfilling destiny has never
Been so boring.
Smiles and handshakes.
Nice to meet yous and
This one’s on me.
Where are you from?
What do you do?
How long does it take
To get into your pants?
Depends on the path
And when it’s taken.
Or what I’m drinking.
I know two ways to relax.
Either have a good time
and forget about your worries.
Or sit alone and brood
Going over every layer
Personal deficiencies
Emotional insecurities
Awkward personalities.
Lay them all out straightOne atop the other
A neat stack of issues
Laid out on your bed.
Then
Sleep on the couch
Hoo Am Eye
My identity is ironic at this point. I’ve spent a couple years following my instincts, trying new things and staying positive. I’ve discovered delightful worlds that are fun to visit. I’m still looking for a place where I fit in. Someone told me I fit in at The Magic Hat but I don’t feel it. I’m only a performer if the world is a stage. I’m an audience member, at best. Granted being a good audience member has its own challenges.
I’ve altered my appearance as much as possible to express how I feel about who I am. A larger percentage of my body would be tattooed if I had the right resources. Maybe I’d be perceived as less of a white chick that way? I could try shaving my head completely but in my experience a good haircut has the same effect. I could try wearing different clothes however my experience suggests worrying about what I’m wearing is a step in the wrong direction. Otherwise I just keep being me and suffer as silently as possible. No one likes a complainer.
There’s a fundamental part of me that I still recognize from my youth. I remember being young and absorbing the things around me. I did my best to follow rules when they make sense and understood empathy very early. Questioning authority is the only real credit I have to my name. I’m not special and yet am treated better than others? I’m not challenged by anything except unrealistic expectations. I hate who I am almost as much as the person you think I am.
Pee Pee Dee
Today is my birthday. I spent the entire morning not speaking to anyone. After attending PAX and hanging out with my best friend from Memphis all weekend, not talking feels good. Working on phones at the Space Needle was an exhausting experience for my vocal chords. Expanding the range of my voice is tough progress. It requires working even when I’m tired. Soreness is a fact of life. I just want to find somewhere I can be in pain for a good reason. Continue reading Pee Pee Dee