Listening to Tuesday’s Gone,
Remembering I am
on a rock
Telling myself all the anxiety doesn’t matter –
Not in Space…
Well, I did think all my fears could be solved by hard work
Lost my goddamned mind with that fuck shit once already
Now it’s a pale Friday,
And my workload is //////////////////////////////////////
So I lean over in my chair to pet the dog as he walks into my office,
Saying, let me tune this server,
So we can eat…
And Elon thinks we’re living in a video game….
(Who could imagine a South African of privilege living in a goddamn bubble… [crickets.wav])
Yup, I came in here to dream of a shitty, tiny room,
Where I’d be able to afford to write… and outrun my childhood
But it’s all excuses if you ask men who live in suits, with gray or orange hair…
Anyway, I’m not sure if this is anger or maturity,
But since it’s a poem, I’ll go with the latter
I’m just trying to figure out why humans have tried so hard to forget that they are a species, and that human was just a word we invented, like whale or bear… [@ Wyoming…]
And one day, when the megarich are hunting us for sport from helicopters, maybe we’ll change. But not until then. So let’s just blame the media and keep raising asshole kids.
What Bukowski said, about how the problem with the world is that all the idiots are so sure of themselves while all the smart people are so full of doubt…
I think of the Mexicans riding their bikes from the grocery store yesterday, and I think of how wild they live, just like I grew up. And I understand some of the fear in their eyes.
[Ryan Reynolds voice] And to all you Anti-Journalism Bubblehead Wannabe Bond Villains: If this world is a game, the rich are the players.