Internal
consciousness inside myself sound the alarm
I am ready, not
necessarily prepared or capable, but
For the purposes
of such malleability I am that desperate
I am huffing
daily in the stench of an inability
To continue to
embrace this stage as an acceptable form of being
The routine is
not deplorable in any actual definition of torture
But my mental
ability to be in any way interested or invested
In the betterment
of this current enterprise is all but exasperated
I remember coming
here as a contingent mandate
In order to
obtain resources in coinciding activities
Which this
appeared to be the least negative of the possibilities
Given the
constraints of travel and monetary compensation
The exterior
factors rationalizing such thinking
Are not only
deceased, but in most respects reversed
So that the very
surroundings that produced this negative as a constant
Actually inverse
this given as now neutral in comparison
Which is a
delusion of all that can or could be considered sane
The hive has
boggled my thinking and clarity has finally found me
That I would
rather live meekly than be a zombie capable of affording satellite television
Strike me, please
strike me into a new foray, a fresh plate, for
What is it that I
would most like to be if possible
I would simply
like to be able to talk to people about their feelings,
Their thoughts,
their introspective mandates and the avenue of psychology
Appears now like
a beacon, how can I get there, how can a man change his life
Reinvent his
possibility in this economy, I am not sure
But if I could
some how sell this house and find out a program
Of great
refinement which would allow me to enjoy the life I had once
Thought possible,
Ah But this involves a start and the great statement
That this
accounting, this numeric tracking is far from my best adventure
My vocation is in
fact a farce and a trudge through the boring components of life
If anyone could
have told me that these natural actions crafted inside yourself
Were in some ways
unique or that they had value
I can only
imagine the audacity to assert that any part of me was good
But in the
preposterous claim made boldly without raucous laughter
I might speak, I
might do, I might come to the table humbly to realize
That the only
adventure is not to afford retirement, but in some ways self fulfillment
That life is
intended for living, that life is not a receipt at a place of commerce
And the
possibility exists that the fangs of this economy need not only
Lead to blood
letting and man after man found drained in the streets
Of the mere
pittance he was capable of producing given the plethora of
No work here
signs, the no longer needed, the machines taking over
Robotic and
population boom, spanking each child into this world with an apology
That they were
not better left alone as segregated sperm and egg
Wrestling out
there in nonexistence and now burdened with the search
The looking for
sustenance for a mouth, for a heart, for lungs
For common
dwelling, for speech to converse as if any other human
Preferred they
exist, then they not exist, this is the grand contradiction
That we wish to
try at all given all that is against us
Spending day
after day typing numbers over words
The reporting,
the accounting is all historically irrelevant
I don’t care, I
don’t care, I don’t give a fuck no more
Nothing really
matters to me!!!!!
The apathy is now
exuberant that the penalty for the out
Is better than
the peace of the now, why can’t I?
Why can’t I
try? Why can’t I learn what it takes to
become a therapist?
The years, the
debt? The lack of support, the wondering, the wandering
The telling why
doesn’t make me feel like I can do it now?
Maybe I lived,
maybe I saw some pieces that were monsters before
The idea that I
had any sort of advice to give appeared so daunting
For in the world
I knew no one but myself and now
I know myself so
well that maybe that was the power of the all
To dive
internally, rather than externally and in therapy
I could possibly
teach this craft, for all the answers are a drilling
Into ones own
being, rather than rafting through the rapids of dance floors
Or grocery store
aisles, and I see my own detriments as a blessing
And partially as
a varied flavor from the bland capable of doing
What so many can
as normal, yet I find nearly impossible
So it is in this
dichotomy in which I find a semblance of hope
So do I dare, try
to work and take classes, take off, what would I need to do?
Maybe she will
know, maybe I can tell myself
At least I can
ask, at least I can dream with skin and fingers
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