optimists and pessimists
need each other
to diffuse
their respective
perspectives.

pessimists
get too helpless.
they feel
everything is on them.
it starts to feel
like they think they're Atlas,
or Sisyphus.
pushing their boulder up
the mountain, forever
and ever
alone.

some inferiority complexes
border on narcissism.

optimists get too helpful.
they burn so hot
they forget that sometimes
they can be as useless
as the pessimists feel.

most people that want
to be positive, surround
themselves with positive
people. and negativity
vice versa.

this creates delusion.

it makes happy people
seeing all that's happy
and unhappy people
seeing all that's unhappy.
no one group feels
for the other
and neither ends up feeling
anything
completely.
you put yourself in
a position where all your
input contains a consistent
confirmation of your stale,
untested outlook.

if nothing is tested, nothing
is validated.

that's just science.

surround yourself with
people that diffuse you.

you need that
tension.
if nothing else,
you won't get
bored.

I sure hope I never see you again.
Every time I do
it opens that
old can of worms.

I saw you once at a party,
when I was throwing up
on the bathroom walls
and you laughed at me
and I dreamt of you
for days.

One dream
you told me if I brought you
a human skull
you'd add me on Facebook.
All I could find were these
teeth
you knocked out of me.

In another you played
guitar on a staircase.
through a ring
modulator
and asked if I wanted to
play too.
Then you ripped the wires
out of the ring modulator
and jammed them between
my teeth.

I've never seen a can of worms,
but the way that you make me feel
whenever I remember you
is exactly the kind of
condensed slime
that makes up
the can of worms
that you are.

my head is a skin tied
water-****.
wobble minded and
stench ridden.
it bleeds diarrhea.

an ache not of throbbing
but like, pressurized
wet tissue membraned
balloon stuff.

could pop
any time.
will pop.
just a matter of
time.

seven thousand days now
I've been lugging this
bubbling froth-tank.
this neck ornament.
this ***** machine CPU.
and all it does is
complain about
itself.

i'm a pidgeon.
there is some
bread.
I am going
to throw it over
my head.

then I will
toss it down
my throat.
gulp.
I do not need
to chew.

it is good
bread.
there is some
more bread
over there.
I will eat
it.

oh no!
a little boy is
chasing me.

it's okay.
there is more bread
over here.

petty disputes and
untied shoelaces
and
spilt yogurt
can break baby skulls
in your brain,
if you've got no reason
to lean over
and tie it all back up.

man can walk on coals
if  he feels somewhere deep
that he really has to walk on
those coals.
woman can lift a car
to save a child
and she knows why.
I can't brush my teeth sometimes.

there's something I have to do
before I die.
that should be enough to keep
my head above the muck
at least for a little while.
something is coming my way
if I hold on a little longer
I know it in my bones.

still...

I envy above all else
he who has a why to live.

people always ask you
"what do you want to do with your life?"
"what are your goals
and aspirations?"
"what are your plans for the future?"

if all you do is plan for the future
you become a kind of miser of time,
who saves every dollar he gets
and never spends it
as if the dollar were
the real thing.

we're obsessed with this forward thinking ****
to the point we're always waiting.
waiting for our dream to come true.
waiting for our big break.
so when the day finally comes
we miss it.

we were so busy looking out
at the horizon,
we didn't even see
that there's pizza, beer
and that guy you like talking to
who's real funny
right in front of us.
also futurama's on.

imagine you and I,
our tangled flesh.
first arms, than hands,
legs within legs
upon feet.

a collage of
textural comfort.
security and beauty.

now imagine again.
minus your body.
my fingers through
his orange hair,
mouth agape.

let me tell you:
you're missing
out.
when I press my body
into his
I can feel it crushing you.