I died from having a scuffle with my mom.
The stress got to my heat
And killed it
Soon I am rushed to the morgue
For an emergency autopsy
I tell the ME
That it was the bullsh*t
That caused my death
Not the scuffle
The conversation continues
Until she is satisfied

My
M
O
T
H
E
R
I love her
I hate her
There is no in between
Just black and white
No shades of grey

N
U
M
B
N
E
S
S
Is all that I can feel
Today
I have shut down all
Emotion
Because the b.s.
Continues
Why
Can't p e o P l e
Leave me alone

I was talking
A walk
Hello good moring says a nice Jewish woman
We talk

Smiling

Smile fades

Then I hear a familiar sound
The recycle truck

To the recycling truck "******* **** *******"
Flipping him the bird




In front of the woman

The recycling guy
Had better
Hope that
There is a real life
Re-animator
When I get my
Hands on him
For he destroyed
My morning

Mom
this
is
Over
Some
motherfking
Empty
Fking
Cans
Nonay??!!

Have you had a bad
Morning. Where you
Just want to press the reset
Button
Like in a video game
But life's a not a fun game
Yet we have to play
It.

I am angry
I am *******
I am enraged
I feel like my was going to explode
This morning
Over stupid small things
Don't sweet the small stuff.

This generation knows only darkness
and sleeps on its back

the sleeper windmills violence in upon
it’s own sensory plate
                                       (the turbulence of
                                        fit-fusion
           ­                             and shapeless
                                        mood based dreams)

                
protest whine

offence

a life less of assurance
awaiting instruction

bore
froth
tend
endurance

Days are no fun
played out underground

A Mole baring task-force
A clunder

Muscle beings
reading the darkness

              

Tales held of the higher plane
an existence firm upon the roof terrain

Once a thriving insistence
ocular culture and unpushed air

This is what came to the generation
of post surface availability

              

The Moles are quaked
they raise in hunch
reach out for their boots and tools
begin the awake shift

Jay and i
Was our
Relationship
Just a f*cking
Lie what next underage girls
I wish I never met you.