If I play-out the idea of killing myself
in my head enough
then I might actually not do it
The act of killing myself
in reality
wouldn't necessarily resolve anything
but would console the fact that you might have been right
in thinking that I was using you.
It would be a relief to make you feel guilty
and to remind you
that I was your first born.
By the time the top of my head is completely bald
hopefully
I will be working in a corn chip factory
where I would have to wear a hair net on my head
My co-workers
who are nice to me up front
would say mean things about me
when I'm working at the machine that makes extremely loud sounds
I would have to wear ear plugs for.
You would laugh when I tell you this
I would be sincere
but you would think I was trying to be funny
and I would feel like no one takes me seriously.
I hope it's o.k. that I'm still here
The universe doesn't have an opinion
to change
about anyone
or anything
It hurts that I'm still the same
I may have just confused pain for boredom
Or
is it boredom for pain
Remind me I'm o.k.
But
don't remind me
I'm wrong
like what this thing does
when you type something it doesn't recognize
I'm probably anal.
Anal means:
on who is serious.
Whoever reads this
is someone I would enjoy
in real life
until I am bored.
If I get tired of being around you
you shouldn't take it personal
It wasn't your fault
As typical as it may sound
it's me
not you
and I wouldn't know where to begin explaining
If you think I'm an asshole
then you're not alone
sometimes
A lot of the times
people look like they enjoy my presence
or maybe they just make themselves look like they enjoy my presence
since the reason I'm with them in the first place is contrived
and they have no choice
so they make the best out of the situation
by laughing at things I say when I don't mean to be funny
then when I actually mean to be funny
and they don't laugh
they apologize and the atmosphere turns awkward
They forget
but I dwell on it and hope that they don't fire me tomorrow
or on monday
if it happens on a friday
I like my job
only during paydays
besides that
I'm just killing time
It doesn't mean anything and I don't know what I'm doing with my life
Neither does anyone else
but they have this preconceived notion that brings meaning to their lives
I'm presumptuous
and pretentious
but I also want to sound modest.
Getting used to being alone isn't that bad
You learn to depend on yourself more often
which in turn helps develop a more solid foundation to your self-esteem
It also dissuades you from not encouraging your personal opinion
and persuades you to avoid external influences
like television or your co-worker with an inflamed male ego
You also never have to feel awkward about walking into social situations by yourself
and pretending to talk to someone on your cellphone
while waiting in line to check out movies you want to borrow
You would feel better about seeing a happy couple walk across your line of sight
in the park
knowing both of them are absolutely frightened of the thought of being alone
But
you would be completely hopeless
when you happen to be on the toilet and the power goes out.
A red sea urchin crawls on the bottom
of the pacific ocean, nursing a hang over,
singing a portishead song in his head.
This certain creature has had a long night
filled with nothing but redundant dispositions,
hindered by recurring neurosis, leading him
to binge on whiskey all night as an escape
from the reality of his crippling self doubt.
He tries to regenerate new spines to replace the
the lost ones from last night but realizes that
he doesn't have enough energy to do so. So, he
crawls over to the kelp forest and consumes
his fill, rebuilding his energy to grow brand new spines,
for elevation over tall rocks, to increase his possibilities
of procreating and passing on his genes, which he considers
substantially above normal for his species. He has thought of this
justification as elitist, but pursuits on for his own self-absorbed
reasons.
After the endeavor, he realizes the effort was in vain. No other
red sea urchin, of the different gender, found him attractive, so, he
gave up all hope and wrote short stories about humans in an
animated manner, that red sea urchins would relate to, sometimes.
Shut the fuck up dog
Why are you always barking?
Do you need to poo?
This is what I sound like
speaking from inside a walnut shell.
It is high pitched and muffled.
It is almost inaudible.
I only speak in three syllabled phrases,
and say things like:
hello there,
how are you,
and I am dead.
I will befriend a squirrel
who won't eat me,
because I relieve her boredom,
sometimes.
Most of the time,
we stay on the telephone
without saying anything.
This consoles the innate inherence
of human loneliness,
which is abnormal for a squirrel and walnut to feel,
but we cope with it over tea.
When we do talk on the telephone,
it is usually about failed relationships
and the non-inability of alienating people
in subconscious ways.
During the days she feels loneliest,
she will ask me why I choose to stay inside my shell.
Since I verbally communicate using only three syllabled phrases,
I will answer her through a six page letter,
typed, and fed-exed.
I will never know why I chose fed-ex.
I do not think their rates are cheaper.
In the letter,
I will emphasize on human misery
and the constriction of freedom by human desires,
which would read unconvincing coming from a walnut.
I will not write about my credibility on human affairs;
rendering me pretentious.
The letter will begin with these words,
"In the course of a human lifespan,
I will have not written anything coherent to reality."
I pick up a bundle of pita bread
Walking to the check out line
I think of what else I need
Nothing comes to mind
An over-endulgent
Obese man stands behind me
We are waiting in the same line
The store is unusually crowded
I am not wearing underwear
It would be unfortunate to be pantsed at this time
I am uncomfortable
Everyone seems to speak in unison
Creating an indescribable noise
I panic inside
But keep my motions under control
I can not stand it
The man behind me says,
"This is retarded."
It's good to know that I may not be alone
But, I am
His presence consoles this momentary loneliness
A couple waits behind him
They are obnoxious and out-spoken
They comment on my new friends physical features
I don't know what to do
I feel a great obligation to protect him
What do I say
What they speak is truth
But it hurts
I feel his pain
Which isn't much to bother him
His skin is too thick
To puncture with shallow criticism
The couple laughs an inconsiderate laugh
It pierces me like a thousand dirty needles
The man behind me doesn't budge
"Two seventy-five", says the cashier
"Oh. Alright. Here you go," I say
I give him three dollars
I wait for the change
I take the quarter and leave.
Taking baths are fun
except when you are me;
I am a manatee,
which means I take baths all the time.
While I am eating,
doing yoga,
or taking power naps.
I am taking a bath
even when I am on the toilet,
which is disturbing to some,
but that is OK with me.
I bathe where I crap,
because I am a manatee.
