I feel worthless and weak
I can’t breathe
And I hate myself for it
This hate becomes fury in an instant
The only thing I want to do is punch my face
So, I punch my legs
Slap my face
Slap my arm,
I think I need something to release this stress.
Boxing would be great.
Cycling looks like fun-
Peddling and peddling with no where to run
But, there is no time.
I have no extra time.
I can get up early for a 6 am class but how about my sleep.
I’m just so tired today.
I just want to sleep.
I've been told of a path obscured.
It curves, it glides, but must be held with carefulness, I am assured.
Soon, I will understand.
No one knows it,
though its seen,
no one knows it but people like me.
We are asked to hold against our will
for pressure or love I know not still.
Though happiness is not always found,
pleasure is all around
no instructions, no guidance,
just will of the mind, being run to ground.
I've been told of a table, all round,
Used to spill, to gut, to frown
We sit at this table
Eat at this table
Guidance is fed from this table
Where ‘fuck you’ and ‘fuck that’ is truly allowed.
But sometimes you get a snitch who claims to know better
Papers say this is where you should be, this is what’s right
but that same ol’ douche bag doesn't tell the truth behind the end of a
fight
so, I try to do better than just sit at the table
Maybe paint a painting
paint a painter
painting words
claiming sainthood with his sword,
forcing colors on my palette
drowning flowers with his curd
I run my mind outside to smoke
The clouds and sky guide me the most-
Ly into dreams I love to host
Those of no things and of some things
Where my rubbish isn't rubbish like the rubbish of before.
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