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I'm a fucking genius:

"If you can't stand the misogyny, don't get out of the kitchen".

[Petulant Kid]

A voice dangles by a thread
The end of my rope-
hanging on the air itself
creating its own solidity and form.
Nothing I did could make you proud
[Then or Now]
Tide is always washing it back
and thoughts make me
laugh alone on the bus
[Then cry alone on the step]
Not believing anything actually
turned out This Way-
Straight roads don't do that
but they were never chosen over
what seemed like a better way
[Again with "The Way"- what is this?]
Having trouble sticking to your own
Convincing Convictions
My denial slices into
whole loaves, it's so thick
and so is the place
where it constantly sits
Fresh each day with promises
that are stale by the end
and no good to anyone.
This isn't what you made me to be-
this is a product of Nothing.
The city was like Venice- all the roads were waterways, except they were full of SEWAGE-water. Sludgy poop was actually covering about a foot's depth along the entire bottom. People were standing around waist-deep in it all over the city, watching some kind of performance or parade in a nonchalant and content manner that wouldn't seem out of place had they been sitting on a blanket at the park.
A not-OLD-but-older-than-me dude on crutches got out of my way, smiling and sincerely wanting to help as much as possible, because I was walking my mom's old racing bike along the upper path. [I was confused- if there's an upper path to walk on, there's no need for anyone to lower themselves down into the filth... but that's just what they do here.]
He was clearly struggling- I insisted he go first but he kept insisting that my bike & I were more important than his injury/disability. Although he was speaking in Punjabi and I in English, there was nothing but understanding, almost as though we each had the HGTTG earfish.

My Luffy hat blew into the water and past some family who refused to help me grab it: "Uuuugh, I'm not putting my hands in THAT filthy water" [yes, while standing waist-deep in the very same filthy water]. I just let it go then, whatever- it's covered in pissy-poop-water by now anyway- it floated away and the [very hot] guy I was suddenly walking along with was wearing a bright white t-shirt without a speck of any grime or dirt. How can it stay so spotless in this place? How does he do that?

Something happened then, that made us happy, but the detail of it escapes me now. Perhaps a part of the performance that was particularly good?
He hugged me and it was really really nice. I wanted more hugs so I hugged him again - he almost kissed my neck because of the awkward way I grabbed him- but his mom was standing there and I got embarassed in case she figured out that I thought he was beautiful and wanted him to kiss me, so I let go before I was ready to. I'd told her before that "it would be too weird", and felt like a liar for changing my mind.
Then a long bell sounded, and as a joke I said "oh, we best go in, then!" Meaning it was like a school bell and recess was over, but not clarifying that. They both hesitated and kind of fake-chuckled to appease me yet obviously not knowing what I meant. They just knew they were expected to laugh.

That's when I woke up to the fire alarm going off in the house.
Apologies to every daughter
whose lungs I refused an allocation
of even a single breath
I know you'd be The Only Perfection
But your existence would be resented from
the very moment of conception-
as your father I can't just stand by
[being far too selfish to bear you myself]
"Parasite, your host is toxic"
You're better off finding
somewhere else to form yourself
and in its perfect time
Come back to me in external solitude
and we shall form separately,
[This Time Around]

Lives of countless amounts
repeats of beginnings, endings,
comings and goings
Endless fade-out paired with
and compared to explosions
That all blend effortlessly
swirling silently together
in the gray of What Was.
A face can spark one
of decades buried
But suddenly
"That's right-
once upon a time that was all that existed
at least for a while.
What happened to that?"
[We do nothing but forget, it seems,
until provoked sharply in the side]
How can you miss something
so out-of-nowhere
so intensely, so fierce,
when you hadn't even thought of it
in no-idea-how-many years?

None of them were the ones
I promised myself
with each new beginning
was only another [undeserved]
opportunity to
fail and disappoint.

The tangles are gone
and the Bridge is out
Don't talk to me like I'm one of your girls,
Just almost-touch me like one
[Avoid the scars like they're lava]
Next comes the
fresh wave of gradients
Beginning This Again
-And then what?-
With nothing convex by May
[Considering the unthinkable
while praying for blood in paranoia]
We won't be the same person, then,
and nobody kept track
of what number we're on.
We deprive for others to thrive
[they're not us, so are worthy of change]
only to wonder why we haven't left
The Starting Line yet.
Counting backwards to 23
The age of an age
Now one below
In a Circle Of Circus
[Extended Extensively]
Spun from a flurry of black mesh imaginings
to weeks of OverGreen
Floodgates of what was once mundane
-it was almost wrong to be another way-
[but way leads onto way]
All these priors forgotten
until drunken fingers do their dance
and it's not the same when
Decisions have been OverMade
Over Time
in such abundance and
with fire forged from ruin


We just forgot.
[So I wrote another thing. It may be expanded sukoshizutsu because it's so much more than this, but for now it's all my brain can do.]

Cassis was never Creator Of The Crossroads
Entering from the East amid Battlefields Begun
Standing suspended
[Existing only as a bystander]
Providing the soundtrack to epiphanies before
even being aware of her own existence
[Again Alliteration Accompanies Anti-Allegro]
So we get lost in this sound, what of it?
All of us here agree on at least one thing-
Too many to take you on.

Clinging onto all this shit
Having no sanity left to show for it
Abandon it all and set yourself free
End up where you need to be
What was lost before was taken by force
The choice of what you lose is now only yours
You can choose chains or you can choose change
Even though it's scary and strange
You could step forward and take a huge fall
But possibility of reward beats not knowing at all.
When you're getting a bus through the place you live and all the buildings are familiar so you know your stop's coming up, but you still don't get any comforting feeling of "I'm almost home".

If "Home Is Where The Heart Is", it's no wonder I never had either.