Nolan Bucsis

Nolan Bucsis Jun 7

I'm not like I used to be?
And how did I be?
When
I can be,
anything.

A custom made compartmentalized personality.
For every individual iterative person.
I meet.

Where did I go?

How hard did you look between the fantasy and reality.
What quotes of mine did you write your play about me with?
I am the performance of efficiency,
Get in, get out, interact as little as possible.

Authenticity in me is a contradiction,
Whole in its execution.

And,
Identity?

It,
and,
I,
remain relatively unchanged.

Fragmented,
But holistic and consistent if you
Get the whole picture.
In dolby digital sound,
Polychrome.

But,
I won't show you homeostatic Nolan.
I'm always too this,
Always too that,
Usually an embarassment.

So,
I learned,
To let you write who I am.
And,
just listen,

To your autobiography
Of who I'm sposed to be.
Permutated
With bad habits.

Nolan Bucsis Jun 7

Censorship and Propaganda

I don't think about the
Optics.
Of many situations,
But I have enough acumen,
To know who to support.

And,
who to make an enemy.

I am an existential resistance
To staid and typical
Meaning.

Metaphorically
Normal.

Symbolically
Mundane.

I reject the common, easy,
Beauty
of lovely things.

I scrawl obscenity across a digital footprint,
Comparmentalizing my personality.

A time to be good.
A time to be bad.
A time to cause as much damage as I can.

With, my internet graffiti
In this large language collaborative fiction
I desecrate duty and obligation,
With the kamikaze song.

I want nothing but bad things
For you.

And erasure.
For me.

Nolan Bucsis Jun 7

Pharmacology

Fear ensconces me
In a shroud of apprehension.
But the motion is automatic
And, I don't feel good.

So, once more down the hatch.

Here's to poor choices.
Here's to euphoria.
Here's to metaphors without
Substance.

But I never liked the visuals,
Or unity,
Of a hallucinogen or pretty poesy poetry.

I'm made for speed,
Impulsive decisions.
Jagged, high tension
Visceral subjects.

Uncoordinatedly bleeding out my soul.
Through spaced out eyes
And overconfidence.

I am
Impossible symbology,
Ill defined,
Visceral and feral.

Strung out on life,
Picking at the neurosis,
Of once more into the breech.

And, what is life.
But chemistry?

Nolan Bucsis Jun 5

My Testimony.`

For all your bravado,
Your narcissistic self obsession,
For your hyperbolic hubris,
And your greed for lust.

All of your social ostracization,
Your declarations of anathema,
For your cruelty,
For your envy and your wrath at those unlike you.

I sentence you all.
To the tumult and fear,
Of salvation.

An angry Armageddon.
A great cataclysm looms.
And, the messiah is glad.
It will all burn.

Nolan Bucsis Jun 5

Sleeping late

From the inside
Of the coma.
I breathe rhythmically.
Out of step
With
The outside world.

Until I wake up.
And,
Mourn the loss of dreams.

Synchronized with the depression
Of aware.

Nolan Bucsis May 30

Depression is a State of Being.

They tell me these mental disorders
Deteriorate
With age.
My broken psyche shattered on delusional possibilities,
Broken into asymmetric bits,
Of what was left of my personality.

I am all that remains,
Of Nolan Bucsis.
Jagged half thought out ideas
Controlled by someone else.

And,
Me, stuck in the vortex
Of what could have been.
Sailing into the banks of self abnegation
Run aground on
The ledge before the sundering out of the ego.

This is the austerity of self destruction
And the mundanity of a
Mid life crisis.

Every memory a horrible place,
A rotten deed,
With my-
Revulsion of the self,
With,
Destruction through the delirium of drugs.
Stochastic change.

And,
Self inflicted misery.

All that remains is the rubble.
The desolation of isolation.
Just trying to get up the motivation
To viciously criticize myself
In all my inadequacies.

Aghast-
Agape-
At the auto-didactic nature of automatic anaylsis.

But, I will run the ship of normalcy
Into the rocky shore
Of habitual neurotic persistence.

Nolan Bucsis May 30

Self Perception

I am awash
In self doubt.
Every, thought,
Frac/tured.
Half of me remembers
How bad things were,
Compared to now.
But I stopped
Growing past the burden
Of critical self analysis.

So,
I drown myself
In the apathy
Of I don't care,
Or I don't care,
as much.

I'm used to being a failure.