Contentment?
Who needs contentment.
Let's burn this fxckxng house down
so our skin swelts from the heat
and our egos can cry for our lost possessions.
Who am I without my Things?
Who is Sisyphus without his boulder?
A man now content with only himself?
Gxddxmn Absurdism.

In the garden amongst the flowers
like a bee in a library, a bookshop
there's nectars sweet with flavors discrete
words bitter and stories magical
I see and fly by Kafka, oh there's Camus
I smell the roses and touch the lilies
knowing not how to make honey
much to see, much to read
can I drink my share, lead others here
where should I be, why cant I be

Breathless . . . Heaving . . . Sputtering . . .
Many more steps to go.
Hardened feet.
No longer are my steps maligned by stabs of blood.
Condemnation . . . Damnation . . . Corruption . . .
My seasoned back launches into my perennial burden.
And another step I take.
Into an inevitable future of drudgery.
Hope . . . Exoneration . . . Absolution . . .
Have long been forgotten.
Their burnt ashes adorn my forehead.
My shoulder screams ahead, into the weight it upholds.
Rumble  . . . Rumble . . . Rumble . . .
Each step like the millions before it,
thrusts the stone another foot towards the jagged peak
that towers impressively up ahead.
Dum Da De  . . . Dum Da Doo . . . Dum De Da Dum . . .
And the day goes on.
Dum Da De . . . Dum Da Doo . . . Dum De Da Dum . . .
And the night lives long.
Breathless . . . Heaving . . . Sputtering . . .
My war-torn muscles relax.
And the stone sits.
Stares at the valley below.
Lightning . . . Rain . . . Thunder . . .
The wind caresses and cajoles,
And the stone rolls down below, echoing Thor’s exclamations
And my heart leaps with joy.
After all, there will be another day.
And my feet have hardened anyway.
Ha Ha . . . Ha Ha . . . Ha Ha . . .

I know that the
grass is green and
sun red, but sometimes
yellow like dandelions,
and the earth is brown
just like trunks of trees.
I know the skies
are painted in blues
that eventually fade
into mauve, at some point
coalescing into the seas
and limpid waters of
sun-kissed beaches, where
strange exotic fruits would
entice with violets and amaranths
redolent of a night on
some far island, stood
beneath the stars whilst
they shine white like...
a million ways out.
Each one a brush,
showing me the palette.
But everything just looks
grey and dark and
black.

Everyone’s faces are folded under the surface of the concrete
I can’t make sense of any of this

There’s a barrier to the plaza
Air blows through
Too fat to fit
So little pieces peel away and litter the ground like skin
Everyone just goes around it

They said it’d be 18 degrees today
But I think it’s going to rain

This life is so boring
Flies gather on light bulbs
And burn their legs off
I’ve spent the last hour
Rolling their bodies into the storm drain
But they keep coming
They just keep coming

the dust
that collects underneath my
bed
flakes of old
skin
are more myself
than I am

the person I was
when I was seven
is not me
nor
the person I was
on my fourteenth birthday
the person I was
yesterday
is not
the person I am
in this moment

the cells
the building blocks
of this body that carries me
are constantly
changing
they die
and entirely new ones
take place

how can I say
I am the same
person
that I was at fourteen
when every particle
of myself
is completely different

what is it that has
kept me the same
person
throughout my regeneration
is it my consciousness
is this my soul

I am a tree
grown from just a seed
every year
my leaves
shrivel up and die
and every year
I grow
brand new ones

it is still the same
tree
because it's trunk
remains the same

I am still the same
me
because my consciousness
remains the same

after a tree
is cut down
it does not disappear
it's trunk
remains

smaller,
yes
but still there
now a stump

if I am still myself
after my body
changes every molecule
of my prior self
this begs the question
will my consciousness
remain
after this body has died

if
I
am not limited
to a specific
chemical makeup-
able to transcend
different bodies-
does that mean
I will transcend
this
life
as well