patiently awaiting promotion and for things to get better.

       everything is being modified, designed, stratified, digitized, maximized then minimized, marketed, socialized, manipulated then redistributed, imitated, upgraded, patented, repackaged, reformatted, made over, made up and everyone just gives in, bows down, let’s go, fades out.
       so then do people really trust society, believe in anything or just have no choice?
       so that today for all intents and purposes becomes another slicker, faster, cheaper version of yesterday.
       everyday commits tiny actions that feel dirty inside like part of soul slowly being sold out, away.
       thus the shame.
       the shame of feeling, touch, nakedness, and dreaming- never doing but just thinking, of being passive aggressive and words over action.
       the shame of only going half way because it’s easier to follow.
       the shame, the guilt of shame.
       of everyday allowing part of self to disappear in the name of profit as everything’s so made up and cosmetic like dolls shiny and plastic.
       the guilt, of not being able to look into anyone’s eyes.
       almost no one becomes what they were dreaming.
       the guilt, the shame, the masochists and catholics, the whole religious right, third reich.
       por mi culpa, por mi culpa, por mi gran culpa.
       the guilt, the shame, still praying.
       someone sets out to be something, someone.
       americans with guns and how the west could have been won without exterminating whole nations of native americans.
       whose guilt? whose shame? in whose name?
       everything’s prepackaged for dissemination and consumption, but still believe what’s being said- that’s all there is to go on, so isn’t it just easier to take everyone’s money then? and run
       from guilt, from shame.
       ideals become corrupt as part of whole fades while days pass by and less of truth remains.
       everything heads towards the one, but that one is completely mistaken for a one that should be all.
       color shall blend towards gray as even love deteriorates.
       no one has time or emotions to invest, so everyday live life more and more like everything’s a hustle or investment.
       the guilt, the shame.
       not being able to fall asleep, without energy to leave, without anything to live for until it becomes easier to follow the herd over the cliff.
       the shame, the guilt of not being free, of everything weak like me.

06.09.03.

om1ss!on of the 9th letter.

a.
m1nd stares down
so s1ck of “!”-
my me myself
m!ne, all m1ne.

and all the words
!ns1de
the m?nd,
so self absorb
-ed-
!d, keeps on
talk;ng.

the only one
that matters.

am al:ve. am a l/e,
so scared.
am all so self
!mport
-ant.
am so
sell
-f1sh,
and am so weak from
talk!ng,
th1nk;ng
about me,
me.
forget me
and leave me out of
h1!s
-story.

b.
the only1 that matters.
the only one anyone remembers.
all the characters and heroes
just a few names to sample the past,
but that doesn’t last
as the last become
first.

c.
i,
looks so alone,
but so obsessed with
its self, itself.
i
becomes useless
and insignificant
as even age fades
when memory passes.

03.13.03.

just a thought.

if
ugly and
a.www.
-k.ward as me
were u,

alien
-ated (ate
it) and dis-
associated as
me would u
b.

02.23.03