Apparently “no” means “yes,” and “yes” means “I understand that you’re not going to follow through anyway.” I’m not even sure why I said that or where it came from or if it’s even true. Because apparently things don’t even have to be apparent for you to use that word. Really, it’s true. You can say whatever you want whenever you want to and you don’t even have to mean it. They call that “freedom of speech.” But sometimes using that freedom is “treason” and you got shot or hung or electrocuted or lethally injected.

Mathematically speaking, it’s all in the numbers. That and the symbols. The variables also. And the graphs and equations and whatever else they use. You know? I don’t.

I actually don’t know much about anything. I am not an expert. I don’t have a niche. I don’t have expert power. Or any kind of power. Or knowledge. Knowledge is power. I am not knowledgeable. I am not even that good looking. Sex is power too.

If two guys walk into a bar why is that funny? I’m not laughing. And I realize that I am just one person and that the world doesn’t revolve around me. But I am me and my world does revolve around me and I can only see through my eyes and act because of my life experiences. So if you tell me that the world doesn’t revolve around me, I’ll tell you that you’re right and the world revolves around the sun. So what does that have to do with anything anyway?

If I wanted to write a poem about semantics, I probably wouldn’t. I am not as smart as you think I am. I am smarter than I behave. I live down to low standards and I refuse to excel. I am writing because I must. Don’t refuse me because you don’t agree with me. Refuse me because you are passionate about something and I am not that something.

I feel. Sometimes I feel nothing. Sometimes I feel empty. Sometimes I overflow. Sometimes I want to die. Sometimes I want to live. I love. I bleed. I cry. I sweat. I am not a band. I dare you to define me. I will be indifferent to any labels you place upon me unless they match my shoes.

I mix and match the metaphorical with the material and the physical and the spiritual and the mental just trying to make some sense of it all. What is life and what is death and what does it bring and what does it entail and why are they both so damn important anyway? Where are we going and why are we going there and what comes next?

Why do we spend so much time in the past and so much time in the future and so little time in the present? What is life if it is not now?

Then boredom sets in and I wonder again and again “What’s the point?” And again and again no one answers.  And why am I not entertained? Life is beautiful, or so they say, I should be complacent or content or even happy. Boredom, apathy, emptiness, these are a few of my seemingly favorite things. I hate what I am and I wonder why. Why why why?

I want answers. Solutions. I want motivation and passion and compassion. I want to feel. Whether it’s pain or joy or comfort or despair or worry or peace. I want to feel my blood flow through me faster and faster and faster. I want my heart to beat to a rhythm that I can’t quite keep up with. And I want my feet to move like I didn’t know they were capable of to the pounding in my chest.

When I say “my country ‘tis of thee” I want to mean it. But not really. I don’t want to be patriotic or nationalistic, because that’s so silly to be proud of where you were spawned. Be proud of what you’ve done, of what you can control. Sure, I’m glad to live here in the land of the free and whatnot. I’m glad that half of my country hates the other half and can’t agree on anything but still one side isn’t going around killing the other side. I’m glad that there is no genocide or ethnic cleansing. I’m glad that I have the right to do whatever I want to or not do what I want to. Really, but isn’t there something better? Am I a communist? Probably not. A fascist? Nope. I might believe in anarchy, but I’m far too lazy to research it enough. So I tend to ignore politics and want to travel not be proud of my country.

So what’s the common theme? I don’t even know if there is one. Maybe it’s that I don’t know. Maybe it’s that I don’t care. Maybe it’s that I just want to feel something more tangible and real than what it is I am feeling right now.

I am disillusioned and disenfranchised and I don’t have dysentery.

Name (required)

Mail (will not be published) (required)

Website