I wanna get
High,
And,
Ramble about Gods
'N
Quantum physics.

Qubits
And
Kali.

I wanna bike on those
Southwest side
Wide streets,
And scream whatever
Song I'm listening to,
To the magpies
And the passing rich
White people.

I wanna hallucinate an
Entirely new
World,
And notice the trees,
Breathing to the rhythm
Of the pulsations in
My eyes.

I want prophecy and
Vision.

I want
Synethesia.

I want undulating
Sidewalks
A low creeping fear
And the world incongruantly
Flying towards
My face.

I wanna lose my mind
On drugs.

Here,
In my
Personal
Synaptic system
Asymmetrically firing
In no direction in particular.

Truth
Is often
Mundane,
And normal.

You run marathons
In your head
Fantasizing reasons
For other
People
That don't exist.

Reflections of
Your
Own
Self.

I remember
When I realized
All of it,
Is a delusion.

She was beautiful,
And I wrote
Her
A beautiful story.

One which
Was wrong.

So,
I swore off
Pretty
Possibilities.

We're all
Disposable
And,
Mostly interchangeable.

So,
Why get
Attached
To temporary fair
Weather friends.

Or some delusional
Obsession
With one person,
For a ****,
And a listening
Ear.

To those
Blessed by God,
Truly sanctified by
The most high
It is a burden.

A punishment
Of positivity.

The problem
Is.

You don't choose
To be chosen
By God,
He,
Chooses
You.

And, the pious
Turn green with envy.

The holy aspirant
Denigrates the blessed
As though their auspices
Entitle them a relationship
With the divine.

You cannot
Volunteer to be
Selected.

And God is the judge,
Not us,
Not our aesthetic preferences
Not our rightly deserved
Rewards,
For doing the thing.

God is my comforter
Until He's not,
And I honestly hate the guy,
Prefer Satan.

Deserve?

No,
Punished.

Jeremiah 1:5-7

Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.

Then said I, Ah, Lord GOD! behold, I cannot speak: for I am a child.

But the LORD said unto me, Say not, I am a child: for thou shalt go to all that I shall send thee, and whatsoever I command thee thou shalt speak.

These critical
Self analyses
Hit different,
Now that
I'm more
Apathetic.

I'm a
Failure,
So *******
What.

So is everybody
Else.

Besides,
The **** do I
Care
About other
People.

I'm a
Hikikomori.

A world
Renunciate.

And,
If in my youth,
I was already
Ostracized,
Why try to fit in
Now?

I was born
Against
And now
I dance
In my
Delirium.

I am
Triumphantly
Pathetic.

Words are
Always
Real consistent.

Unlike people,
My vagueries
Are intentional.

But,
It all comes from
Somewhere
Authentic.

If only
Hyperbolic.

Everyone
Is so clean
These days.

Not even a stain
On their shirts
Or their souls.

Nothing
Well lived in,
Rugged
Ruddy
Faded with time.

And amidst the
Junkies,
Metheads,
And assorted
Other people.

I still stand
Out.

And,
They like to remind me
Of how strange
I
Really
Am.

Never thought
I'd be,
Anything other
Than a
Useless
Drug addict.

But it turns
Out,
I'm alive.

That's somethin.

Everyone dies
Their own death
And lives
Their own life.

The fantasy
You create
For mine,
Is delusional optimism.

I learned
To let go
When people's
Presence
Mattered to me.

Back when it hurt.

I learned to numb
My emotions
When my rage,
Exploded
My
Life.

The glimmer you
Had of who
You only thought
I was,
Is a you problem.

I can't even place your
Face.

Your
Electrical
Ghost is
Unknown.

Who are you to me?

Other than someone
I never see
Anymore.

You get obsessed
With other people
When the trauma
Rears it's
Intrusive thoughts.

I isolate.

I starve.

I control the twenty feet I can see.

Not all coping
Mechanisms
Are outbursts of
Passionate emotion.

No, never,
I intentionally killed
Them
All.

If I knew you
Where'd you go?

And, if I left you
There was probably a
Reason.

You left me alone
And with my own
Devices.

I found out
I didn't
Need you.

I don't
Need
Anyone.

The death of me doesn't
Even make me
Cry.

It's only natural
I think.

Love is a let down.

Fragility is weakness.

Shame,
Embarassment,
Desire,
Happiness,
Anxiety,
Decen­cy?

All burdens.

If anyone knows
The real me
It's probably
A projection
Or part of the
Poetry.