Perhaps they just wanted me to be successfully gaslit
into denouncing my dignity
and assisting them in denigrating me
so I could live with them in their delusion
performing a service to their feelings and pride
at further expense to my health and well-being
to the point of being a perfect sacrifice to further their unearned gains.
There are differences between being modestly humble
and consenting to being a self-loather
on a guilt trip in a shame factory
as a scapegoat that only got made to look bad
from an ultimately fatal and lethal allergic reaction
to the exposure to them and what they’re ignorant of
while I bear a disproportionate amount of the burden of awareness
and lose my peace while they have comparative bliss
amongst enablings from enablers
assisting them in a lucrative imagined contribution to any results I could have.
Certainly not everyone would find me unworthy of love
because of something of substance rather than mere superficiality.
Maybe I never belong where I’m told to play my hand of shuffled cards right
in a randomly ejaculated quantity of opportunity seekings
that only see quality kings so lonely do one mere square worth of slide
if they’re not too loud and even allowed to get by.
Maybe they’ve been peeking at all my peakings,
wanting me to come down to it,
meaning to be shrunk down to fit into their boxes and pockets and purses and wallets
so they could spin narratives on the clock and stop it,
close the door and lock it.
With or without acquiring significant dollars
I wouldn’t choose to procreate when a wholesome human is hated
in a predicament of what overaccumulated
where copping a feel, copping out and calling the cops
has been done to death.
I don’t even want to say I’m the best.
I just don’t belong in their mess
being tested for my testicles while using chemicals for rest.
If the sense that I make goes to the right of the decimal to be considered less
then maybe they skip over too much of what should be common sense
to have more dollars at their address
while $hi𓋹✞ing on the heart I gave out from my chest
with so much unconditional love too easily accessed
that I gave in excess.
No wonder I get stressed and depressed.
Stockholm Syndrome and a too easily given Yes,
while they think they’ve been intellectually playing chess
to checkmate what they hate to let aggress,
with nothing to compare it to while feeling unfairly impressed.
Maybe they think I’d get a ride and breathe their air in excess.
The greater gets taken from by the lesser who pays less.
A pro at creating shouldn’t be procreating like guesswork in a nest.
If I’ve cried dry then maybe they fear what I clearly expressed best,
and wouldn’t shed a tear for the year that comes next
while vexed about the specs of a specific text,
like I just try for some sort of terrific and terrifying flex
and am playing 52 Pickup with a full disassembled deck
as a maverick watching the bull$hit cash the check.
Maybe I’m too real and they feel authenticity shouldn’t be blessed.
Maybe they see me as on some unwordly type of quest.
Maybe it’s something about the way I look or how I’m dressed.
I’m too real as I’m accused of and I already confessed.
Judgement of the budget and some pests.
Bit off more than can be chewed forever
and still never better digest.
It’s my soul and my heart and my head,
and they haven’t led me nor did they expensively invest.
They may believe and think I’m just meant to be owned and possessed.
Couldn’t even give me liberty or give me death.
When the sun that shined and shown is deeper and more sunny than money,
it’s still thievery and theft to be keeping it kept.
So at most I only host what will infest
while I get bugged by what the bugs suggest.
I need something new and something fresh,
not an ultimatum and prerequisites for all my money or all my flesh
while dysfunctionally enmeshed.
In the belly of the beast for the devil’s system in the east,
and at least move west to refresh with seeds you need to catch,
but yet there’s diseases and wrecks.
Too easily makes me out to be the wretch
with my resources overstretched.
Catch up or Ketchup or Catsup or fetch?
Dismantle a man and try to get him gambling in a bet,
and I bet the way it’s rigged they still haven’t had to do that yet.
I guess they like to be exempt.
Everything real I authentically meant.
And they may just take as takers and not feel the need to request.
That’s just rape of a host they won’t graciously have as a guest,
but has to stay in place at their behest.
Is it fair to be in this net?
Do I care to be threatened or to be a threat?
Would I be fortunate to forget?
Or is there more to beget?
I would never consent to giving my only begotten
to a system that lacks the wisdom to make me not regret
what I give them in whatever setting and set.
If I wash my hands my hands are wet.
Veteran sounded out backwards says narrative, with sweat.
Wouldn’t it be sweet for real peace to be met?
I don’t get my credit so I don’t see my debt.
But we might worry and we might fret,
cause we might need to ease up on the war
for the freedom we’d get
on the other side and what it’d be for
on the inside of where my Mother died.
Just a lover and another bride.
Discover what I tried to get tied
with eyes open wide while some spied.
I guess I’m what won’t hide while I strive but still don’t thrive.
Not known to live and maybe I don’t even survive.
What’s there to believe in if believing I lied to either side?
What if to give a gift I need her pride?
To where would a leader guide if I need to fly
but just bleed and die?
Maybe retrieved in July after what I’ve been eaten by.
Would her sugar be what I’d get sweetened by
or does she take treats for fake immaculacy and not need this guy?
What have I been treated for or treated like?
And what kind of doctor have I been treated by?
Three Dog Night, treat a bullfrog right,
but no Jeremiahs need apply.
Can I get higher than what I was seasoned by
while the seasons go by what I was once defeated by?
On my own two feet right by what cheated to drive me crazy
and left me there to waste me and label me as their destination
like their driving wasn’t small and hasteful and hazy
and it’s all been my lazy vacation.
Just much more tall and patient so therefore left waiting.
They never pay me when I’m too fast,
and they never pay me when I’m latent like the best saved for last.
So slash and burn the Babylon grass.
Or burn the bridge and close the door and turn around the looking glass.
A one-way mirror and a two-way mirror are the same thing.
The flames we bring if it’s lame to wear 3 rings.
Does she hear with her ears or her earrings?
And does what she hears make her ears ring?
Or am I too much fiercer than her piercings?
What if my touch would endear her without cheering?
I guess it’s always in doubt yet about to be nearing
while the script knows I’m a schizo and I hear things.
One brain.
Can only get clarity from clearings
after campaigns of smearing thinking it’s appearing unstained.
I live as a real giver
so I’ll share some remaining liver for champagne,
but I should stop volunteering
to be a mere appearance for racketeering
that scams me out of my authentic rearing
like it’s lost in the gears of eugenical steering
because of merely aesthetical ethnicity ethically veering off course,
and telling me to have more remorse for being a horse.
Powerful flowers to report the smell of on the stop,
and man the shop of Mom & Pop.
Gotta have my crops.
Like male pattern baldness is a circle around the top
and the purple pills get swapped while Jesus brings the pork chops.
Since when does ever the stork talk?
I’ll never give a baby to this slop.
Dominance and opportunistic parasitism has too much opportunity
to make the baby’s opportunity flop.
Worth more than gravy and I only maybe get a drop.
Does the doctor work for seeds that flow or the mosquitos I should swat?
And the next mosquito could be a cunt or a twat.
Have sex with them and they may snatch and stunt the growth of what I brought.
As a God or as a Man, just give that I will not.
Not a little, not a lot.
So love the world, or for the sake of democracy, it will not be bought.
I’m a good fish, Bitch, but what has caught me can often rot.
10 is the digital dig it all code of ten that fought.
If I’ve won and get a zero, it’s not my hero,
it’s just the kind of heroine that doesn’t get shot,
and that wasn’t what I got.
Am I so naughty for getting an allotment?
And is that even the sum total that I totally want?
Locally or globally, I’m openly a lot.
Nothing noteworthy, just a poppy pod in a pot.
But who’s worthy and made all the notes? That’s what I thought.
The house always wins.
The sinful wins of a machine and its slots.
Am I owed any props or are there cockblocks for my plot?
The Root of all Evil or just people equaling what sought?
Can an eagle be so illegal that the needle can’t make a knot?
Beam me up through the eye of it then Scott.
Trying what I ought to when I ought to have been taught.
But I guess real teachers are authentic like they are not.
Some cut me some slack and some pull it taut.
You know it’s not me who really squats,
contrary to what it costs Mary in the robbery
where this quandary is not a lottery of mockery.
So X properly marks the spot.
Dot, dot, dot.
. . .
