i like david rockefeller. he never beat around the bush. feeling under the sweep of things? it really is your own damn fault. you did nothing. they call it perception management. it’s not even that this world could be a simulation, but more like a construct. “we create our universes” as portrayed by the double-slit experiment. Perhaps they figured out the correct measurements to providing the right amount of reality v. horseshit. personally, it looks like they’ve won, and they haven’t even dished out their best material yet. notice how everything is tied together with something else. books with extra volumes. movies with sequels, even reboots. tv shows with crossovers. tv show reboots! it’s a web and snare. and as much as you don’t believe it, you’re in it. look at you trying to gnaw your own leg off now. Cool, eh?

i walked into it myself. i didn’t like it. but, it did point out how much our individualism was constructed or shaped. nobody’s an individual anymore, and hasn’t been for some time. the only way i see to stop this, is for us to all stop. that’s, all of us, get off our screens and back onto the streets, saying hi to strangers, looking at one another, making eye contact, etc. Read the original books that inspired the movie! buuut, this is where THEY win; they counted exactly on how lazy we could be, would be. They gave us a little pinch of paradise to soften our stool. “Escape the comfort of our computer chair and keyboards? Hah! Preposterous.”

they bet on our laziness, but our will to get up is the only thing that can beat them. so, what does it look like? rolling yourself in a burrito blanket on the weekend? or getting some vitamin d and talking to random strangers you’ve never met? The creeps, wierdos and/or kidnappers already out there? pre-emptive training is always good. teach your kids, and keep teaching your kids and simultaneously your kids won’t become creeps, wierdos and kidnappers either. …the sad truth is, as the great philosophers The Clash once said, “only a fool would think someone would save you.” Nobody can count on rescue but if you do everything in your power, then what have you got to feel sorry about? The god that didn’t save you, the god that did, or the god that you believe has done all he’s can? of course i don’t mean God, god. but is the term god not synonymous with your own version of self empowerment? You can say this is a pessimistic US view, but you’re kind of an idiot because you believe hope will cure things like this. That the good will defeat evil. Well the truth is this: ‘hope is forced but hope is not the force’

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tall, tan, young and lovely

the wind sounds the woodwinds in an orchestra
the flapping of leaves like tenor staccato
the flow of clouds like basstones of cellos
hammerings of life is the metronome

cravings to cast apologies
when music can’t be heard
the beauty of life sings
and is incomprehensible
through mere words

headlights and
honking horns
are not beautiful.
it isn’t beauty when manifested
from boredom.
boredom is the real root
of evil
though evil is
evil inherent.
evil is merely a song

it along with all
modes of malcontent
stem from demiurge
with time, we all become evil
reflect away lightness
but that doesn’t define badness
badness comes from our yearning
to have a relationship
with the very things
we don’t understand.

the very invisible world
beside us.

not one person alive
has not seen a glimpse of it
they who’ve not,
they are the one’s that deserve
they have chosen not to see
to not hear
to not feel
to not enjoy the concert

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everyone’s special, not everyone matters

i like how your canines kinda pop out and make you look like a sort of gremlin or demon or something but you are so innocent and kind. now, i’m tipsy while writing this but, if i was the king of the universe i would let you go about the universe just to explore the outer limits of what your heart can encapsulate. no moral prerequisites. just go and be. but i would also know that if i was capable of doing so, i’d have done so for myself. but i didn’t. if ever there WERE a king to the universe, he would have been the first person to be locked up in prison.

perhaps we are all avatars of our truer selves. just waiting to die, but smart enough not to waste time, not delaying the inevitable, but to optimize our singular solitary existence. to make it matter. which is an inherent attribute of anything that was ever alive. we sought not to exist, but to matter. we feel futility in existence when we believe there is no greater force looking out for us. even existence itself is questioned. this being, this concept is SO powerful that it can invoke emotions within us that dart to the left and right, as we’re about to die. this thought. this idea. this concept. but it is built into us, ain’t it?

you may joke about the perils of conditioning all you want, but this train of thought always prevails. history dictates. it is instinct. it is instinctual that we believe there exists something more than us. and as selfish as we can all be, not one of us can ever say that God or the belief of, didn’t believe in us. don’t agree? answer me this; what have you done to make your world a better place? i don’t mean environmentally or fuckin seals and polar bears, but in your world. if you’ve done nothing, then why would anyone give two fucks about helping you? i will never tell you to count your blessings, but i will ask you to consider them.

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lune de septembre

fluorescent september moonlite
dripping midnight at the seams
as cold lonesome air weeps
upon petals asleep
retired birds to crickets aroused
slaps, smacks and shrieks
into timid 

prison bars of content
dissolve slow from acid
within, escape
in plain sight

forge new regimens
in the morning
for the last time

He was right. The soul resides in the stomach. Think of it this way; when the stomach is full, it’s full of shit.Everything you care about is cared about half-assed. But when it’s empty, it feels the misery, hopelessness and despair of all things. It doesn’t stop there.
It acts upon neuropathways in developing habitual comforts. It releases dopamine in the sense that makes you feel comfortable, like ocd patient perpendicularly preparing pencils. It seems to suck in the misery, hopelessness and despair, and somehow imprisons these feelings. It becomes bacteria easily spread to those around you.

Starve them. Eat while unbearably sad. I’m aware it sounds preposterous, so take this as fine print. It hurts that internal festering agony too; and as you starve them, you starve yourself too. Empty stomach. Of course, you really start feeling the pangs of hunger after about 4 days as an average american eater, so hydrate. After my second day, I found myself both doing and enjoying things I’ve never thought about. Something different. Anything different. Those little habitualisms we found comfort in. Patterns.



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believe yourself. stop sitting.

i’m not sure how poetry works. i’ve read a few poems. they were alright. i’m sure they applied to their time and at the time, they became popular. i’m sure i could be a poet or a laureate if i had been raised 100 years ago. maybe 80 or 60 or 40. but i wasn’t raised then. i was raised here. with you. while you had things better, and i didn’t. i resented you. but i don’t anymore. you resent me now, and you don’t know why. we’re like bad step-siblings.

i want to say there is a way for us to work together. but there isn’t. you have this irrational need to feel in charge. fine. with. me. but feed us. give me your anxiety, your restlessness, give me your wavering belief in the moonlight because you just don’t know anymore.i’m not here to hurt you. i’m not here to help you. i’m just hungry. i’ll eat anything you feel strongly about. it really doesn’t matter what it is. but open your heart. it looks delicious.

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thursday’s child

i checked my horoscope today. i don’t recall whether that was done in the name of fun or not. I just read a thing that said my and everyone elses nights will be easier when the moon is least close to full. a quarter or less and they can’t touch you without looking stupid. wraiths and regrets surround us at every stage of breath, and only wait for that tiny heart of yours to jump. you’ve felt it. when it feels like your heart missed a beat. you think it’s because you accidentally held your breath. maybe you didn’t realize why you were holding your breath. did you ever remember feeling your own heartbeat before now? cool, huh? it’s like a gulp of fresh air. sometimes i feel like i’m dreaming this stuff and it’s simply a product of my overactive imagination. but sometimes, it feels like i’m not the only one to feel like this. as if others may feel this way too. but i don’t know. i want to move, to act but it looks like nobody gives a fuck if i actually try to save the world. so, who cares? enjoy what you got now. you don’t have a choice.

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teepee wizard

When i was in highschool, i was asked to volunteer in this program that got a bunch of outgoing/socially adept students to help socially awkward/special needs kids break out of their shells. At the time, autism wasn’t a widely known term yet. I was a sort of class clown from sophomore year and on and didn’t really care to have any responsibilities at the time, but I learned how to discipline my tomfoolery in theater thanks to a drama coach that noticed me hiding in bushes and throwing whole rolls of toilet paper at students that walked by, and not get beat up for it. (like whole rolls one uses for the traditional teepee-ing.) He asked me to take a class with him and I never stopped. Anyhow, I joined the program reluctantly at first, but figured it was a weird way to pay it forward. I didn’t care much about paying it forward really, but it being weird was the selling point.

A few weeks after Yes I Can (said program) started, a of the other volunteers stopped going. I figured it was probably because the kids we were helping weren’t just introverted, but almost had a fear of socializing. There was so much going on in their heads but they couldn’t get it out. When people try to do nice things and get no response, the most common response is frustration, and it’s easier to just stop trying if you were volunteering to begin with. No contract, no commitment. But I stuck around. It was like a tough crowd at a comedy club. Oh yeah, that’s the method I tried. I said and did things to make them laugh. At first, crickets. But I kept at it and they started laughing slowly but surely, just enough for them to get used to me and go, “ooooh, jesse”, but you know, in their heads. Then I tried a buddy system where I’d take a few of them around campus with me as I mingled with different friends. Of course, I had my friends incorporate them into conversations and to not act different around them. The kids were not having it at first, but eventually came around. Sort of. It was difficult. For me too. (Imagine being the funny guy that no one laughs at!) In the end, I couldn’t help them break out of their shell. At least not completely. I failed. And the program got disbanded because of funding, but I still tried to hang out with them. I got them to at least, smirk.

I stuck around because they were just like me all up to sophomore year. I was quiet, introverted and didn’t care to socialize. I was depressed since first grade. After freshman year, I decided I didn’t care anymore. I had no friends until I stopped caring about what other I thought other people must have thought of me. But I was so deep into not caring that I hadn’t noticed I’d amassed small groups of friends everywhere. It wasn’t a click, I had clicks everywhere. Jocks, nerds, geeks, cheerleaders, potheads, ditchers and even clicks from neighboring schools. “The trick in life is to not care,” a friend said once, much later in life. And before you know it, you’re caring and loving without even thinking about it.

Strange dream I had last night made me write this. I was in a regular class and the teacher wasn’t there yet. But one kid from the program was there. I forget his name, but I think it was Levi. He was stuttering a sneeze. “aaaaa-ch-ch-ch, never m-m-mind.” an improvement! I was talking with some friends with him next to me. I turned to him and said something like, “I bet you stutter now, but you’re probably all up in those chatrooms flirtin’ with ALL the girls, you’re an animal, I bet. Everybody! Levi’s got bitches online!” Levi immediately defends his own ass, “No I don’t! Shut up! I don’t got bitches online! Shut up, Jesse!” And I smiled at him. And everyone’s jaw dropped. I told him, “see? You don’t stutter when it matters… even though it’s a lie.” Levi threw a roll of toilet paper at me and I laughed. Then he said something funny.

He said,
“It’s so much easier to make everyone laugh when we’re up here, but no one hears my jokes when we’re down there.”

It was such a profound thing to say. Autism locks these kids in their minds, and some people treat them like they’re brain dead. They’re really not, they just need a little help busting them outta jail. It’s not like they want to be there. Their brain/body process reacts differently to external stimuli. They’re not weird on purpose. They’re trying to be as normal as they can, but jaiiil. And not caring, while it may work for some of us, the key to the cell, doesn’t work that well for others. Alas, it was only a dream. But that quote Levi said though… I woke up right after, giggling. I repeated it in my head and thought, as above, so below.

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