Nothing in this life can and has prepared
any of us for losing anyone…

Especially someone as special

a special existence?

Could a special existence
make more sense?

Even in the randomness?

I have experienced dualism
finding others like him
little bits of his laughter

busting out at my response
at the world as he evaporates
as I get frustrated and breaking
everything my little but always bigger

When we were little
he would tease:
“You were adopted!”

“But we look alike…”

He knew it confused me
since I told him in secret:

“We are twins.”

“You know we’re not, right?”
He wanted to make sure I knew…

That out of our two years
days, minutes, seconds
which separated us
was a distance…

The deep down of living
with anyone who could
recognize you?
From a distance?
From a travelled

“Yeah, but we still are?”

I float around with this question
as he never answered…
Maybe got frustrated with it?
Maybe because he was protecting me…?

I can still hear his background
grinning, hahaing as I try to break


Divisive Me

Giving licks on every end
because divisive is at the root
of this struggle.

When the call of unity
as the celebrated front
is all about the erasure of screams.

Divisive is at the root of this struggle.

Desperately wanting to forget how this all came to be.
Demanding others to turn the other cheek.
Divisive is at the root of this struggle.

Valuing only answers which falsely supports “supreme.”
Valuing one future, when future is multiplicity.

Listen and hear it:
Future is Multiplicity!
Future is Multiplicity!
Future is Multiplicity!

Like parallel lines:
We’ll meet in infinity…
We’ll meet in infinity…
We’ll meet in infinity…
We’ll meet in infinity.

Divisive is at the root of this struggle.


They say I’m dangerous.
So, I wear immortal Filas
just so they remember:
If you have the “look” use it, right?
So I wear a muffler, bearing all the scars.
I wear a free bird’s feathers –
A wild canary singing and dancing as
A motherfucking Gangster –
giving a devil’s wink
to everyone in the choir…
They know my religion.

Hard on the Body

There is only plenty
mines and yours
plenty device
self righteousness


attuned as yours and mine shit…

rebellion of love

In my heart
in my heart, because it feels stupid for my environment

that is all about plans of secured success: Failure

as its only purse is as gold as nothing
as that moment however taken

if only I would recognize the importance
which might shit my mind

it skips an so indifferently
my heart begs my mind for your ass

as it does

I will not let you know…


Grow-back Like A Starfish

I do not need to compose anything about you…
There are so many descriptions of the same theme
where you are expressed in varying degrees of dissection

as cells
branches, unexamined
yet an example of…

I will not pretend to know your knowledge…
There are so many competing ways
which are all reacting to the same ‘model’?

as a gift
they are shared
as soft screams
they remember…

I will not be stolen by our brutality
which grieves in silence of its learned dejected shame
gone, only when reached by that recognition

loaded with all that is hurtful, instead of asking why…
‘ruined’ by handling the deadliest, the begrudge of wonderings …

Which completely loves you?
Is not that the ‘Universe’ speaking?

Bread Bags and The Wonders of Bullshit

I may be confused about the term, The Human Condition, and its relationship to unnecessary suffering. Since, I have been experiencing great difficulty absorbing the commonplace response of “you need the bad times to understand and appreciate the good times”. It is not my objective to naively jump into utopian fantasies of consistent happiness, since that would be an unrealistic, foolish extreme, but I do strongly believe that there needs to be a separation, distinction, between what is experienced as, The Human Condition versus unnecessary suffering.

In my opinion, The Human Condition is an inevitable one. Even if hypothetically, one is existing in an utopian society, you will still experience the fear of death, the fear and loss of your ability to do things that you once could, the lamenting loss of others, the individualistic complexities of your identity being thrown into the milieu of other individualistic complexities, and your very small being amongst the oblivious grandeur – mysterious wonders of the universe/environment/nature… So regardless of a utopian society, regardless of our want to control the universe/environment/nature and the technologies created for our neverending confrontation of this reality, the small comfortable conveniences created will never absolve The Human Condition. There will always be discomfort, bad times to inevitably endure.

The very thought that man made conditions (unnecessary suffering – which can be solved far easier than the conditions presented by universe/environment/nature) is a suffering that is to be equated, respected and regarded in the same degree, this brings me to a standstill of infuriating disgust. And when I say man made conditions, I am not referring to our complexities, I am referring to the blatant display/processes of shit. Shit as in the insidiously obvious inequalities of treating ourselves and others. Shit as in the insidiously obvious infantile systems set-up to destroy ourselves by our own hands.

It is unnecessary suffering when 80 people are as rich as half the world population (collectively). It is unnecessary suffering when there are laws that are in place to condone the lawful execution of people who are women, girls, children, black, brown, queer, lesbian bisexual, transgender, old, differently abled etc. Etc, because I am quite sure there will be some new way of separating oneself from another because:superiority.

When confronted with this thought of “you need the bad times to understand and appreciate the good times” because, The Human Condition, I think about my own current condition. I was invited to a friend’s house for dinner. I had not had a meal in a day (unnecessary suffering). So I gladly accepted my friend’s invitation of dinner at his place because I was hungry (human condition). After dinner, we parted ways, and I reflected on the evening. I did not remember the taste of the meal, which I am sure was sumptuous; my friend expresses a lot of love in his cooking. I could not taste this love that he artfully created because I was hungry, and all I felt was the gripe of my insides needing food. So it did not matter what the food was or tasted like. It did not matter if it was nutritiously good for me, and as it was, the healthiness of the meal was lost because of how it was devoured. I had to wonder then, how exactly was this “good time” appreciated enough to make me better?

This whole concept is explicable rubberish when discussing unnecessary suffering. May be when the world, the entire world is not hungry anymore, and if The Human Condition survives the impending wrath of the universe/environment/nature, may be those survivors would look to this time in history and understand it as backward stupidity, and appreciate that they did not exist in these capricious dark ages.


tHE IdeA that someone
can know you is impossible.

your very name
provokes investigation
if someone wants to know
more than the surface.

I met you in 2012
you wore mismatch Converses
maybe that was meant to be a purpose

I did not care about their purpose
then intentions?
I cared more about knowing.

In a protective way
I still wanted to know more

more than mismatch shoes
paranoid assumptions

the invalid account
for which does not tell
allow anything other
than your perspective
from what is learnt
in what is believed
by our own poison
by what we are told.