Subject Matters

There is a lot of other stuff I would rather blog about.

Lots of experiences I’ve had that I think are way more important than all this stupid shit I write instead.

Loads more important than all the poems and all the manifestos and all the melodramas.

Infinitely more essential than the petty things I quibble about.

Big things.

Things that take up all the space in my head.

Things that make me wonder why the world is the way it is, and what anyone has ever said

What suggestion has been made

That hasn’t been ignored?

I am living the same conundrum in my head.

I know I should be saying one thing, but

I preach the other instead.

I want to quit, I want to hide

I want to destroy you with your vanity.

I don’t. I write what comes out,

I let my fears slip out and when I do

It makes more room. I try to fill it with things I find

More qualitative, but oftentimes

I can’t help but notice

That we are all stuck here, together

Forever. There is no such thing as

Quality. Only quantity, and quandaries

And quarrels and quests and quickies and

Quacks!

No ducks, for some reason.

Who killed all the pretty ducks in Kentucky?

What’s a he/she gotta do to see a sexy duck around here ?

Maybe it’s my own perspective

Trapped inward, looking inside every move

Every thought, every trip to an alternate reality.

I knew I wasn’t normal,

And I learned that that was bad

But what they never told me

Was all the fun I was bound to have

Maybe they knew, maybe they warned me

Maybe that’s what all the torment was for

I’m making up time, on my own now

I’ve made a life worth living for

I could tell you the truth, the whole story

But then we’d all be sad

The better story, the story I’m desiring

Is what I’d rather write down, edit,

Witness, and adhere.

Oh god, I’m alive–still

Don’t you think I’d rather be dead,

At this point?

It makes the most sense.

I don’t. I like life.

It’s hilarious, to me.

I laugh in new ways everyday. It helps me

Get through the day.

But I guess that is a defense

And others are put-off by it

I wish I could help with this but sadly

I don’t give a shit.

I would sooner kill myself than crack one less joke,

Make one less quip.

Fuck all y’all. Attitude check…?!?!

Nah.

5 thoughts on “Subject Matters

  1. All quack and no duck. If I could speak, like with my vocal cords and lungs and tongue and throat and whatnot, that’s what I’d say. All quack and no duck. That would be my thing that I said. If I could say. Stuff. Words.
    Guess I’m all duck and no quack.
    It’s been two months now. I’ve even been to see a speech pathologist.
    I wonder if I’ll ever get my quack back.
    I wonder if I want it back?
    Maybe it’s better if I’m all duck and no quack?

    1. Quacking is very overrated, but have you been scanned and shit? Make sure you don’t have some sort of weird throat cancer

      1. Good. I hate tumors. I have a nice friendly one on my shoulder but he’s still a dick and I don’t trust him

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