Life isn’t fair 

I learned at a very young age that life isn’t fair, that the world just keeps spinning no matter what the fuck you do, that we are all just little specks of emotion and meaning and worthlessness and I learned this the hard way at the bottom of a bedroom hideaway, hiding from an emotionally abusive and bitter cynical mad as hell father and I did what I had to do to survive and I shouldn’t feel ashamed of it no matter what the norm says, and goddammit why shouldn’t I be angry at the world for just one minute, why shouldn’t I be angry at the injustice little fictional Ernie Levy suffers from and why shouldn’t I be angry at the injustice I’ve felt and why shouldn’t I be angry because God doesn’t exist or maybe because he / she / it does exist and maybe doesn’t care, and maybe if my father wouldn’t have told me that I was useless and wouldn’t be able to be successful at a university because I couldn’t do anything practical but think think think for hours at a time, days and days without physical activity and that makes me a lazy son of bitch cock sucker then maybe I wouldn’t have dropped out of school, maybe I wouldn’t have estranged myself from the dying / dead Midwestern small town farming generation that I feel connected to yet am no longer a part of or estranged from a millennial white hipster culture or the intellectual academia smug smug smug against the reality which bears down upon them, which threatens to destroy them yet they continue to ignore it to find truth, truth outside the real world of lower middle class families struggling in the aftermath of post modern post industrial post farming life, struggling with unemployment and drug abuse and ignorance and maybe I wouldn’t be so angry at my own god damn self and all those the demigod Holden called fakers because I feel myself chief among them, chief of the fakers and the sinners and the ugly and all cast out by normative positive culture and sometimes I’m just so sick of the pretentiousness of art I’ve tried to so vainly and ignominiously to install myself into but really all I want is to be left alone, to be left alone to work at a shitty little job and go home to a shitty little house and smoke shitty cigarettes while I drink shitty brandy, because if I don’t have that I have nothing, nothing to fuel the raw emotiveness that I so desire, nothing to fuck for or love for or experience for, nothingness begat into nothingness because life isn’t fair, it isn’t fair for the factory owner who complains about the worker who is lazy and doesn’t understand or for the little Jewish child whose only crime was to be alive so the penalty is death nor is it fair for the little boy who hides in a closet from his father’s rage, because life isn’t fair, and the world keeps on spinning, and the sun keeps on shining, and the winters never seem to cease despite their coldness, despite the hopelessness of being alive, despite the miracle of life itself. 

I weep

I weep for my ignorance
I weep
because of my continued presence
in systematic racism
in systematic sexism
I am guilty
Perhaps more guilty
than every Hitler
that has ever lived
because I do nothing
in the face
of my inactivity and ignorance
I do nothing
I do nothing but weep.

Sun Kil Moon

I listened to Benji
All the way through
I wept at the songs
As the night slept on

I smoked a cigarette
Thought about the past
While Ben’s My Friend played
Through these headphones

I’m not as old as Mark
But I feel the same weight
The melancholy of nostalgia
The death of unconnected persons
All those we have once known
Or perhaps would have known
If only given the chance

It’s a beautiful thing
This life we been thrust into
The beauty of pain
Of death, of moving on

And outside the frogs croaked
and the mantises prayed
My childhood home stays still
At least in my mind.

Late 20 / early 30 somethings

I’m worried. I’m worried that I’m connecting more and more to the settled life of late 20 and early 30 year old somethings, that the media I take in, the movies and literature and music that I eat up are geared towards the millennial generation and that I’m missing out, that I’m losing what it means to be a 21 year old, hungry and confused and angry at my childhood and the fucked up world that no longer means anything as I’ve somehow found myself – as I’ve discovered what it means to be me – and in doing so I’ve lost what it means to be young, without care, living only for the meanings and experiences I once longed for as I now struggle with loan payments and job concerns, no longer pulling all nighters taking in as much alcohol and cannibis as my veins can handle, no longer looking for late night fucks or wandering the midnight streets looking for existence, because now I wake at 7 every morning and am in bed at 11 each night because I’ve changed, some holy recognition has taken place that has left me yearning for all that once felt good and powerful and great and now feels only empty, some shift to be awake and no longer just alive, some twinge of guilt that I no longer find beauty in the darkness of the gritty, that as I interact, wrestle and pray with the gods of this age I have changed, have allowed myself to change, to be changed, that I have become more bitter and cynical with the world yet more hopeful with life and beauty and love, that my writing no longer carries the power it once had, that I no longer live on the fringe of society and offer my voice as a sacrifice to that fringe, since I am no longer living there, no longer among the milliards of humanity that deeply know what it means to fuck and smoke and drink in nothing but animalistic nihilism, and I’m worried because in my unconscious shift of allegiance my soul still weeps for all that I once knew as it is now filled with what lies ahead for those late 20 /early 30 somethings that carry with them the loss of gleeful, heartbreaking youth as I, as we, shift and prepare for the creation of something new that engulfs our futures and our souls and brings the uncaring reality of life that lies ahead into being as I, as we, lose the fullness of uncaring youth.

I saw you standing

I saw you standing
In the doorway shaded by moonlight
Your shoulders bare
Your face covered
The edges of your mouth no longer tucked in at the corners
that snaking smile hidden from me
And I
Alone on the bed
Covered in layers
Watched you through the sheets
As you danced
And remembered earlier
How we first felt god
As he rippled through our skins as we touched
Afterwards
the wine less sweet and the music more melancholic
You watched me
In the doorway with your eyes laid bare
Your body hidden from mine
As strangers once again
And I loved you for a brief moment
When we met and were intertwined
Now I can no longer stand you
And turn my head from your glance
Dress and clumsily kiss you good night