Because Everything Can’t Be So Serious… Or Can It?…

Might be leaving here with very little battery life
But I don’t care
All in my head if you ask me
Not truly dead until five percent
And even then
Bringing all the hurt one could ever need
A sinkhole made of shit, more like quicksand
But who’s asking me
No one ever did so maybe that’s why I’m so bitter
Never got invited to the dance
And I never asked
Locked away inside my head
The despair is getting to me
Self-preservation unconsciously
But there’s nothing wrong with that
After awhile
After some time
All batteries drain away and the signals all gone

 

Mother’s Love Chocolate Covered Shit” was a title I came up with, but never used… It was going to be this long monologue… long stream of conscious thought… about all the chocolate covered shit at work for Mother’s Day… Yet no woman in my life has ever asked me or shown interest in such things… is this a case of society pushing crap on women or a deep secret desire to cover the world in chocolate?… but why only on Mother’s Day ladies?… Why not every day?… change starts with you… if you want something you have to take it… and pour chocolate on it… 

 

Proudly serving those that serve
Hidden slavery no one understands
Taken a fool by the Masters
Best intentions at heart
Proudly owned by those who own me
Wish I could separate myself from who I’ve become
Jaded and lost, time has a funny way of screwing us all
Where have the days gone if they haven’t gone anywhere
Standing in a stand still
Death will be here soon and then what do we do
Rehearsing  my place in all of this
One long line waiting to get in
Praying all of this will seem worth it

 

“I don’t see the bosses yellow Mustang or the midlife crises cruiser as I’ve been known to call it, so he is not here. Which is either a good thing or a very bad for me.” Not everything has to make sense at the time or years later… for some reason I never finished this thought… and even now I don’t know where I was going with this… This next part is in the same boat… a prewrite where… well you can read it and tell me… 

 

This prewrite didn’t reveal shit
Fuck technique when it doesn’t matter
Too much anger to flow
Too much anger to make any sense
Fuck you, like I care
I don’t, oh well, what are we going to do about it?
Suffering maybe the best way
But where does that leave the rest of us
Put your balls on the table
Watch them get chopped off and added to the pile
Wonder what the fuck is happening
Does it matter anymore
Fuck you said in only so many ways
Bit the curb and succumb to the toothless grin
Turns out teeth were more important than once thought
Rotting out from the inside
Your breath smells like shit and I can’t take it anymore
Shattered perception of what it takes to be a man
Called out to define the definition of a vagina
The words are so convoluted it’s like they don’t makes sense at all
Given up on the solution and the conflicted
Hollowed out and welcomed home

 

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This was all in fun… leftover pieces that didn’t fit anywhere else… some of it was stupid… who writes a poem about battery life?… haha… made sense at the time… lack of sleep will make anything makes sense though… the last entry… I have no idea where I was going other than to say random things… was my favorite… a lot of really cool… weird… dark lines… hopefully you enjoyed this trip inside my mind… this adventure into the past… 

Threadless… MerchAmazon… BooksEtsy… ArtTwitter… Broken Thoughts… 

9 thoughts on “Because Everything Can’t Be So Serious… Or Can It?…”

  1. Random is good… like what is the bird thinking perched outside my window? Probably nothing, which i sometimes dream of doing. Then i forget my dreams and take off my wings and start thinking… ouch! Have a great day Layne! 🤗❤️

    Liked by 1 person

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