30s at home

the offer and
the going rate
are too good to
pass up.

Why would I
be embarrassed?
Your generation
messed everything
up. And I get it,
you figure we
need something
to do
as we
suck off
the tit
that gave us
life.

Just don’t be
jealous or upset
because we
do what we
want.

You let this happen;
You supported this movement;
Deal with it
and
finish up that
laundry.

Where’s my supper?

But seriously,
leave grandma’s
money with us.

She has to
be dead soon
AND
then, I’ll get
my
own
crib.

intellectuals and the talented

let’s just accept it:
We aren’t special,
we aren’t intellectuals,
we are mediocre
human beings…
…if that.

Have you ever been
around a true talent,
or a true intellectual?

Our inferiority and
existence
starts to come into
focus.

And you say hard work
is the answer?
Have you spent any time
with a coal miner
or a
housekeeper
or a
baggage handler?
They work harder
than anyone
of
us.

I mean, I come
with a bunch of
baggage that I
handle,
but that’s
not my job
or
career; that’s just
my life-pile of
shitty decision
after
another
shitty decision.

But guess what?
The talented,
The intellectuals,
still shit and piss
and doubt and
dream of being
someone else,
like we all do.

My solution:
Drink every night
and your past
will be forgotten
and your future
will have the
appearance of
something better;
however, in reality,
it won’t,
because you’ll
only end up
hungover
while the talented
continue to
trample your
dreams.

God
Damn
Bastards.

attention

I feen for it
I need it
I can’t go without
it.
Please, just
give it to me.
Without it,
I’ll get sick
I’ll feel ill
and
who knows
what could
happen if
I don’t get it.

I’m trying to
tell you something:
I’m dangerous
without it.
I may have
to get it
somewhere else
and that
has its
own dangerous
elements.

I can’t quit
or perhaps I
could,
but not cold turkey;
maybe over a six
month or six
year period.

Just give it to me:
I need your attention.
I need your admiration.
I need your adoration.

What aren’t you
understanding?
Do I not say it
directly enough?
Should I articulate
it
differently?

Fine.
I get the message.
I’m not worthy enough
for you to notice
me.

But consider this,
think about this,
deliberate over this,
too late,
I’m dead.
and
you
never
gave
me
what
I
needed.

hip hop

truth
is
typically
only
found
in
one
musical
genre
during
a
generation
and
this
generation
happens
to
be
blessed
with
hip-
-hop

the
swagger
the
soulfulness
the
bragger
the
loneliness
the
pain
I feel
evaporates
when
that
music
hits
my
soul.
After
those
three
minutes
and
three hooks,
I crawl
back
into
my
hole;
holding
steady
for the
next
record.

2 day hangover and 2 week blackeye

I call it the
2 for 1 special:
Concussion AND
Blackeye;
wait, I meant the
3 for 1 special.
I forgot about the
vomiting;
no, sorry, I mean
the 4 for 1 special.
I almost didn’t mention
the headache;
oh snap! what I mean
to say is that it was
a
5 for 1 special:
because those
pants and boxer briefs
had to be burned;
I guess that makes it
a 6 for 1 special.

Anyways, what I’m
trying to say is
that I got a great
deal that night…the
night I partied at
Chuck E. Cheese.

Weird, since I don’t
have any kids.

the feathers

white crows
black shows
white foes
in tow

birds of paradise
elusive
evasive

i pa$$ed out
again
$earching

i want to go
home
but i live
nowhere

we are physically
separated
by 100 feet
but in reality
it’s really 100 thousand
million
miles

my eyes
are
bloodshot;
sedated;
and blinded
by
lids
and
propaganda

i just
wanna
go
home
but
i
live
nowhere

i’m
too
weak
to
make
it
home

the
elderly
man
and
woman
(a couple with dementia;
a demented couple?)
pity
me
and
my
weakness(es),
but that doesn’t
stop them from
robbing me;
plucking
every
feather
from
me…

I’m grounded.
Impending death.
Flooded with fear.
Drowning in my
own
blood.
Who says the elderly
don’t contribute
to
society.