I haven't done this in a while, so I'm gonna let myself go for a full 15 minutes. Sorry in advance to anyone who reads.
In Ithaca again, allergies, good, sorry, great food, better company and relaxation. Not like at home, stepping over a bicycle, dirty clothes, wires and whatever I have crammed into my tiny apartment. Birds chirping, but now dogs barking incessantly all day long. Peaceful, serene, an escape from the nasty reality that has become my life. Pain, sorrow, follows me everywhere, yet I hold my head high. Money is squandered on things like socializing, when it could be put towards things such as a doctor's visit. Imagine, saving for a month to see a orthopedist? I can not, I imagine the kind of doctor I'd need then, would examine my head, while laying on a couch, scribbling on a pad, I assume adding his $150 an hour charges together. I've been there, done that. I know more about the human mind than most, even my own. The one I hide with smiles from those who aren't willing to really listen.I gaze at my twitter account, trying to keep up with the comedians, the journalists, the critics. I feel I'm as good, if not better. My humor comes from some other place, not looking for a laugh, but writing what I feel. My reports come from sources, with no bias, but this incurable desire to know more than I did ten minutes ago. It's become an obsession, but nobody cares. They only seek to compound their incorrect assumptions, scouring the Internet for a meme or a quote taken out of context to affirm their prejudicial thoughts. I hate what these people stand for. Hiding behind some moral facade they throw up; calling it Christ. Fuck these people. Christ would spit on them. People think I'm depressed, angry, miserable, but I'm not. I just don't fit in their world anymore. A world where I'm judged by how my bank teller looks at me when I cash my check. My last check was for $3100. I stick with the automated variety. No judgement, no small talk, no good day wishes during this bleak time. I shine when others need me to shine and then fall back, slinking into my hole. Creating what I can from nothing in private, so I don't have to become something I'm not in public. I can't imagine the dread people must face every day, having to appease their spouse, their boss, their whiny kids and even worse, their make believe deities. That tightened tie must feel like a noose. Those heels like stakes driven through their heals. I drift off into a slumber and think of those who have comforted me. My dreams take me to different people. There's laughter, crying, love and torment. I squeeze tighter those who I admire. I stroke their hair, only to awake to a pillow case wrapped around my arm. I seek no riches, just contentment. It's become a dream I know I'll never achieve, because I'm never happy, with myself. I read history and want to know more. I watch a movie and grab another. I need stimulation, but the world is not stimulating. It's mundane, monotonous, murderous. Boredom has overcome me and I owe it all to those whose level I've lowered myself to. A descent I can not escape. I laugh as I glance at the clock, I undress her, lay her down and as I lean in to touch her face, a noise, I awake, times up.
In Ithaca again, allergies, good, sorry, great food, better company and relaxation. Not like at home, stepping over a bicycle, dirty clothes, wires and whatever I have crammed into my tiny apartment. Birds chirping, but now dogs barking incessantly all day long. Peaceful, serene, an escape from the nasty reality that has become my life. Pain, sorrow, follows me everywhere, yet I hold my head high. Money is squandered on things like socializing, when it could be put towards things such as a doctor's visit. Imagine, saving for a month to see a orthopedist? I can not, I imagine the kind of doctor I'd need then, would examine my head, while laying on a couch, scribbling on a pad, I assume adding his $150 an hour charges together. I've been there, done that. I know more about the human mind than most, even my own. The one I hide with smiles from those who aren't willing to really listen.I gaze at my twitter account, trying to keep up with the comedians, the journalists, the critics. I feel I'm as good, if not better. My humor comes from some other place, not looking for a laugh, but writing what I feel. My reports come from sources, with no bias, but this incurable desire to know more than I did ten minutes ago. It's become an obsession, but nobody cares. They only seek to compound their incorrect assumptions, scouring the Internet for a meme or a quote taken out of context to affirm their prejudicial thoughts. I hate what these people stand for. Hiding behind some moral facade they throw up; calling it Christ. Fuck these people. Christ would spit on them. People think I'm depressed, angry, miserable, but I'm not. I just don't fit in their world anymore. A world where I'm judged by how my bank teller looks at me when I cash my check. My last check was for $3100. I stick with the automated variety. No judgement, no small talk, no good day wishes during this bleak time. I shine when others need me to shine and then fall back, slinking into my hole. Creating what I can from nothing in private, so I don't have to become something I'm not in public. I can't imagine the dread people must face every day, having to appease their spouse, their boss, their whiny kids and even worse, their make believe deities. That tightened tie must feel like a noose. Those heels like stakes driven through their heals. I drift off into a slumber and think of those who have comforted me. My dreams take me to different people. There's laughter, crying, love and torment. I squeeze tighter those who I admire. I stroke their hair, only to awake to a pillow case wrapped around my arm. I seek no riches, just contentment. It's become a dream I know I'll never achieve, because I'm never happy, with myself. I read history and want to know more. I watch a movie and grab another. I need stimulation, but the world is not stimulating. It's mundane, monotonous, murderous. Boredom has overcome me and I owe it all to those whose level I've lowered myself to. A descent I can not escape. I laugh as I glance at the clock, I undress her, lay her down and as I lean in to touch her face, a noise, I awake, times up.
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