it's all

hyped

maybe we've been doing this since language

bore


-Lahmadaj

i say

so many boring things

i have nothing to say

-Lahmadaj

Glenn's a dick

never really listen to this guy
when i do all i can think is: limp slimy dick with the most noticeable characteristic being the cluster of genital warts pulsating from its craggled tip

he reminds me of those uptight kids in gym class that wanted to be friends with the 'cooler' stronger dudes, but were too egomaniacal to make it work. Maniacs about their lame ideas and uninspired false gusto

he yells out loud and acts like a bad math teacher trying to drive home the importance of protracting to the ears of booger pickers and pubescent rages

he gets so 'intense' but merely sounds like a bitch: screechy little boy complaining about his lunch and disappointment in the new class president
his cohorts spit back modulated a half step up, thin and overly convinced as to make it sound false
their hearts turning black

he believes in jesus, i think
but not the real one, the King James Version- rich white boys

he is a media whore
lining his fat ass with stupid americans' money
people from my home state
too bored and tired to turn off the TV
too afraid to see past their own phenotypes
that they'll listen to this blow fish fart out of his mouth

he's told me to 'mark my words'
so i did
in the annuls of self-entrapping power hungry loud but deflated pushy conservative bigots

don't you realize Glenn Glenn
it's in your eyes
you are false
it is easy to see
you are not strong
you are tired and weak
you get charged to make a desperate attempt
but your heart is taking the heat
beat after beat
until you choke it with your high call for uptightness throughout the world

keep those cheeks squeezed
if that much shit comes out your mouth
who knows what's lower down the track


-Lahmadaj

I wish

to rip out these lymph nodes and burn them in a pail
I want to laugh as they melt into charred flesh and the pain leaves my body
I want to continue to dismantle this form

run around asking questions
someone gives you an answer
thinking it not so useful
run around asking questions

no one has any fucking idea

I have no idea

I had an idea, many actually

but the thrash has diminished them
the coarse iron that grates and scrapes my back
once pulled
once pushed
continue infinite

thought had made it
thought it would be better
spent so much time as younger doing what was needed
none was needed
to end here stupid and bored
my center heavy and raw
tried for the moon
tired

soothe that ache little one there is no world there is no one

again with the broken
throw on more fuel
disappear in its blazing

-Lahmadaj

status

and mood

one can change these to allow others to see and know his state of existence

'yeah right

get real'

what realm is this emoticon

an imagined space

so to create a gathering of other non-existent spaces

does anyone care of the others' temperament regarding the taco they just ate

regarding the boil pained slowly on the leg

nope, didn't think anyone gave a fuck

the other is not here

i can not touch him

i do not see her face

i can not laugh with him

i see no light

there is no body

there is no embrace

no scent

there are only typed shelled words

expressing menial obligations to the man or pop

and i sit quietly

wondering when this stupid shit may suck me into the trash ball

or it already has wrapped its boredom around me tight

pulling the air away

i sit quietly

and wonder why i have few friends

and fewer loves

it may be easily my own inability

though it may be the prescribed life one claims as his own

how much of it is one's own

i suppose

the shit

the voice

the gas 

the blood movement

the bipedal stomp

i doubt any of the mind

except one miniscule fragment of light

which most contemporaries 

dress up in robes of pop culture 

and extravagance 

as though it really is that cool

as though they really give a fuck

as though they've expanded to such heights of awareness

though they know not when they've farted

or when they've burned down a youth

turn his skin into gold

we can wear it around our necks

and laugh heartily at our believed appreciation of art

of human

of the passion inside

read all about it in my status

my emotion 

my essence

the lovers know; the others blow

the night is breathing

the sun is low

-lahmadaj