a simple exercise from frustration to release

utopias hang over our head while we sleep walk our suffering. i bite my lip and listen to the slow rumble of a giant: the city keeps growing. there isn't a moment of silence here. the dream of future colludes into the daily routine.

while i should be documenting every flimsy detail of this life, i'm drowning in the ambition of others.

i walk, cradled dreams keeping sanity intact enough to participate. i walk along artificial bridges erected over the streams of man, the major arteries that cut through the city - freeways -

the screech of life blurs vision into simple recognition of patterns.

unable and no longer willing to contribute to the feeling diatribes of these uselessly selfish cancers, i shy myself to the corners of their world where i am alone, an outcast, allowing them, instead, to bask in the limelight, a mutant plant, growing in their ego, beyond their control. i am dry heaving lies, allowing the world around me to continue it's course. i've given up on my grand delusions.

1. i will never change the world the way i want to.
2. nobody will ever listen to me.
3. myself, unable to pay attention to my reason enough to stir from this walking slumber.
4. these writings are diagnostic test results of a world i barely know. i quietly prod the seams of rationale.
5. i drop my pants and walk around the room, dancing uncontrollably.

my humping frame casts a frenzied shadow. i squeeze the pillow with barehands and let my hips flutter like scared lips. finally...








humans.

never built to understand the world we live in,
all we can do is dream, to make sense of what little we have.
despite our immeasurably small sense of scale,
the meanings we construct for ourselves are grandiose.
it's so perfect, one can't help but cry and recognize the beauty of how pathetically lost we are.
our lives will end. others will replace us.