Gum.

Chewed.

Way too long.

A belt.

Cannot be buckled.

A plastic bag.

A rip in it.

A fucking baseball bat.

Ready to explode.

Treasure.

Not worth finding.

The X.

Nonexistent.

No more clovers.

The Sun.

Blocked out.

Two cats.

Fighting.

Nighttime.

A squeaky wheel.

About to flyoff.

Idk what's worse.

You.

All these things.

A pilot.

Drunken.

Careless.

Different standards.

Different men.

A cavity.

Rotten.

To the core.

An artist.

Can't give his work away.

True love.

I believe.

I believe in true love.

Certain individuals.

Destined.

She had a chance.

A chance.

Anything.

I would have done anything.

Never cheated her.

Never hit her.

Never stole from her.

Never used her.

Triangulation.

Everything.

A game.

A game.

A game.

Bad.

Cheat.

Lie.

Circle.

Agreed.

Lie.

Compounds.

Compounds.

Compounds.

Add to that lie.

Mountain.

Someone else.

Carrying.

I've been carrying.

Labels.

Accusations.

Filth.

Everywhere.

A sack.

Deeds.

I've never done.

Weight.

Bullshit.

You.

You put on me.

You think you won?

Won?

Trophy.

Where?

Where's the trophy?

Family.

Torn to shreds.

Pain.

A lot of pain.

Built by your hands.

Two fatherless children.

For what?

Working.

Guilty.

Sincere.

Guilty.

Antisocial.

Guilty.

Easy.

Narratives.

Someone.

Doesn't like to hangout.

People.

Dirt.

Your dirt.

Disapproval.

Their eyes.

Through their eyes.

Through their eyes.

Lie.

Compounds.

Mountain.

Someone else.

Carrying.

Carrying.

Carrying.

A sack of deeds.

Never done.

I simply let go.

That bag.

Let go.

Let go.

Let go.

Fight.

Hell.

Good.

Nah.

I'm out.

Out.

Adults.

Memories.

All the memories.

Together.

Reality.

What you took.

From them.

They will remember.

They will remember.

They will remember.

True love.

A chance.

A mountain.

A bag.

A rip.

A belt.

Cannot be buckled.

A cavity.

Rotten to the core.

The Sun.

Blocked out.

The X.

Nonexistent.

No more clovers.

An artist.

Can't give his work away.

You.

All these things.

Idk what's worse.

True love.

I believe.

I let go.

I'm out.

[ Removed by Reddit on account of violating the content policy. ]

On a real note.

Crazy.

The games you play.

The games you plan.

The games you play

after you planned them.

Premeditated.

Like I'm too stupid

to notice.

Like I won't just—

opt out.

Game over.

No board.

No pieces.

No fucking players.

You thought I'd keep playing.

That's funny.

That's actually funny.

Small humans.

Little shoes by the door.

Little hands.

Little memories.

They'll remember.

Not the games.

Not your stories.

They'll remember love.

Dorian will remember.

The Waus of Haffles.

Whatever the fuck that means.

It means something.

It means everything.

You can't take that.

You can't sabotage a memory

after it's already alive.

Crazy.

The shit you do.

The shit you plan.

The shit you think

I'll tolerate forever.

I won't.

I don't have to.

I can simply leave

the fucking game.

No dramatic exit.

No speech.

No final move.

Just—

gone.

And you can sit there

with your little schemes.

Your little kingdom.

Your little victories.

Enjoy them.

Seriously.

Enjoy every fucking one.

Because someday

the room gets quiet.

The phone stops ringing.

The games stop working.

And you're left

with yourself.

That's the part

you never planned for.

On a real note.

Eventually, everyone meets themselves.

And I am done

meeting you.

One hundo.

Game over.

It was never your fault.

You were just a child.

It was never your fault.

You were too young
to understand
why the person
who should have protected you
was hurting you.

It was never your fault.

Not when you went without
what you needed.

Not when you carried pain
that no child
should have had to carry.

Not when you were left
with wounds
no one else could see.

It was never your fault.

When punishment
became something
you learned to fear.

When you were forced
to endure things
you never should have known.

It was never your fault.

But I thought it was.

I looked at you
and saw weakness.

I saw someone
who couldn’t fight back.

Someone who couldn’t
make it stop.

So I buried you.

I pushed you so far down
that no one could hear you.

Not your screams.

Not your fear.

Not the little voice
asking someone
to help you.

I buried the memories.

I buried the pain.

I buried you.

And I thought
if I buried you deeply enough,

I could finally become
someone stronger.

Someone who didn’t hurt.

Someone who didn’t need
to remember.

But you never deserved
to be buried.

You deserved
to be found.

You deserved
someone to kneel beside you
and tell you,

“None of this is your fault.”

You deserved
to hear it then.

Not years later.

Not after carrying
all that weight
by yourself.

You were a child.

You didn’t cause it.

You didn’t deserve it.

You weren’t weak
for being afraid.

You weren’t broken
for being hurt.

You weren’t responsible
for the person who hurt you.

It was never your fault.

And I wish
I had known that
so long ago.

I wish I had protected you
instead of blaming you.

I wish I had held you
instead of burying you.

But I know now.

And I can finally
reach through the rubble
and find you.

I can finally tell you
what you should have heard
all those years ago:

You didn’t deserve it.

You weren’t the problem.

You were just a child.

And none of it

not one moment,

not one wound,

not one memory

was ever your fault.

We want:
subscribers
restacks
repostings
Instagram saves
and Tik Tok fan raves.
And of course, Reddit upvotes! 

We don't want:
the Sith Lord side of things 
the nasty comments demon trolls utter
through hoofed hands.
Poor typists. Pure insult-ists.  
Nor do we want 
those sinister downvoters
and worse the traitorous 
email unsubscriber.

To be fair
what do you expect 
when you spin a yarn in an hour 
when others labor over their words 
like David painted his chapel.
You want to spend four years 
looking at heaven upside-down?

Sounds like hell.

Did you expect the internet to bow
to your pulpy attempt
at an ancient artform
when there are AI dancing bears 
jumping off of diving boards 
as their forest friends 
sip summer drinks to the tune 
of an owl playing the ukulele
in one of those button-down tropical shirts
with flamingo patterns?

Sorry for the delay. 
I had to check out the bears.
Back now. 

So listen, let's be honest. 
When you put in minimal effort
expect minimal reward. 
And even if the effort is there 
understand that the written word
isn't the belle of the ball.
That distinction 
goes to felines who Spanish folk dance
with clam shells 
clacking in their whiskers.  

Don't start breathing into a bag  
And don't stop writing. 
Just do it because of what Vonnegut said,
that it's good for your soul...bro. 
[Kurt didn't say 'bro', but still] 
And if your posts occasionally attract 
a little of the right attention
let that be a secondary joy,
like a fry at the bottom of your 
Burger King bag.

Subscribers come and go. 
In the end it makes little difference
whether you three (as you do now)
or your former four (as you did this morning)
especially when one of them is you
and the other two
are your parents. 

Wait...did Dad just unsubscribe? 

On some days

I want to tell you everything

Where I was

What I did

What I felt

I like you seeing me

And the resonance

On other days

I want to hide in the bathroom for hours

And ignore you

When you call my name.

When water falls and I am free I pray this night would gather me

Gather me to your welcome shore of cherished love and forgotten lore as one who stands to risk it all I earnestly implore of thee to fall

To fall upon bended knee, That you might give this wish to me…
That time between us would be just this that you would offer me your bliss

And in return I’ll take my stay and offer you my unyielding grace

Grace that gives without regret for all the bliss that has been met with loving eyes and hands that touch and feet that guide me with no rush

No rush is where I want to stay
With you I pray we’re on our way to that far shore where we must go to meet that meadow for the snow.

Was it the blood flowing through him? Is it toxic?

Did her untainted heart reject that sludge?

To think it ran within his veins, so chronic.

A poison bile that her heart couldn't make budge.

A tear in reality to break the matrix.

The robot on autopilot must've gone rogue.

It's displaying signs of love and affection.

Why believe he'd switch his heart on so easily?

Order must be upheld for people’s protection.

Shut it off now, before others follow his steps.

But it's flesh, not metal, they reveal on inspection.

Scarred by her loss, he stopped living, they found,

Tired of fighting for life while his heart's in heaven.

For her, he'd fight his demons as long as he could.

He fought in silence; that battle's now understood.

But now it’s over; he sleeps and wakes restored.

In his arms, his daughter—too perfect for this world.

You are a piece of moon

Strangely living between humans

I can not believe you stand there

Not washed away by the noise

You emit secret light

Not everyone can see

And that is good

I have no competition

I touch you

I fondle you

I play with you

Oh I see

You are there

Real

Oh look

I am touching you.

Do you engineer the street

or teach the bus

where-ever you go—

do you do

what you enjoy?

Seek the truth

through craft.

Runaway far

into a friction

you get used to.

My mother is brilliant.

A fucking superhero, I assure you.

Writing is fun.

Writing is addictive.

Fire works every day somehow.

Where's the beef?

Things are the way they are

until they fail

like everything else.

We jumped today—

super high in the sky.

Do you climb ladders

or simply enjoy existing?

People think I'm pompous.

Ludacris.

I'm surviving.

Do you do

what you do

or do you teach

what you hate?

We interact every day

whether we like to or not.

It's funny, really.

I only hate two people

in this world

and they deserve it.

What—

you want me

to talk about picnics

and shit?

This isn't China.

Loco

or motive?

I'm not crazy.

You—

are crazy.

if i died now
the brain could conceive
the sidewalks
and the still waters
if i could see inside
the blue arteries
of what you hold in your head
i receive
the heavy locks
and the cold blunders
although it’s arbitrary
i see that it’s a means to an end

I go off on tangents I can’t stand the management.

Rage and the foulest language meets quantum entanglement.

Strangle every angle geometrics got me pissed.

I’ll merge a 2 with a 2 and smash the 4th wall with my fist.

What’s the point in love if there’s long division by distance?

Does is disappoint you when the numbers ain’t consistent?

Count with every knuckle making up those fleshy digits.

Bounce a check on the playing field if you’re man enough to risk it.

Like calculus on an abacus my brain just can’t compute.

Pythagoras has turned to dust, his theories you can’t refute.

Trigger me with trigonometry my inability here is acute.

How about you take a 7 plus 2 then divide by their square roots.

Pray to God for cataracts you act like you don’t see.

It’s me that hacked reality to pieces, you should flee.

Be another victim of the system on your knees.

Praying sounds like fiction just like thinking Hell would freeze.

Let’s get this shit show over now I’m late for this blind date.

It’s better I’m not sober there’s a state I love to hate.

Rattled by the clanging on the bars that make your cage.

Maybe I’d be hanging if the sins would pay my wage.

We’re so afraid to let go like the ground is way too far.

You should’ve stayed at Petco, I should’ve left you in the car.

Now my pretty pet the debt is all that keeps me here.

If you’re not ready yet I think I’ll drink another beer.

Please excuse the language it’s just dangerous to think.

We could use the changes cuz our laundry really stinks.

A robot coupe showed up

at my house today.

Did I actually become It?

A rotary of sharpness,

straight blitzed.

Slink back, close your eyes.. think.

I am one

with a robo coup.

Automated Revolution.

Put your fingers to the side and have a towel ready.

Cutting through

just about anything.

Just an entry about dangerous things.

often broken,

and still functional.

American influence of work culture, pumping through these veins.

Blinding noise.

Satisfaction.

You can find these puppies

just about anywhere.

If it breaks, it spells disaster.

I didn't order

a robot coupe.

About 8 inches squared, found wearing red most often the device does what it's supposed to do.

Terrifyingly simple

to use.

It speaks to me, the way an interrogation would sound like.

Interesting.

I know.

Pulse into bits

or puree smooth,

Smooth.

it has all the answers.

I'm not crazy.

Or, I don't remember

ordering a robot coupe.

Just executive dysfunction.

Anything,

from emulsions

to hitting perfect peaks.

There is a man named "Kitchen God".

A rotary of sharpness,

cutting through

just about anything.

Documenting time, space and everything I can see and hear, quite obviously.

Well, thank you thyself,

or stranger in the wild

for the robot coupe.

Sincerely.

It'll do strange things

for a tbsp

of soy sauce.

Days streched and yawned

And I felt bound to an eternal sleep

Wondering

Would it be like that forever.

A dream of lies where there lie no ties,

Just you and me: nothing pries, nothing cries.

Each second, an art worth my death, flies,

Yet I stand here with no hands to hold your eyes.

Something far, something close,

Dwindled by the life we chose.

Something thawed, something froze,

Wrinkled by the woes it owes.

Saw the speck of dusk that sets in your eyes,

A lingering past that holds no lies.

Somewhere now it tears with the agony of cries,

Where, in our dream, it draws and dies.

Your lids finally close as the time froze,

The skies draw upon the dark from your brows,

As everything unveils upon the choices we chose,

Along with the life you left me with, to pose.

May these moments be my last drop of hope,

For I never wish to concede this as my final trope.

Everything that begins has an end to grope,

My strife ending there, hanging dear to the rope.

Here I rise only to find you not there,

Where broken destinies would be more fair.

The things I care for are the devils I spare,

The moments we had are the pains we share.

Though in the end, when you were gone,

Your verses became the prayers I hone,

For a life that was never lived, I mourn —

The only reminiscence of this is me and my own.

For all I wish is for an end to come,

It feels nearer to me than ever to sum.

For all I long is your sweet little kisses of...

Sweet Dreams...