The Space Between

the space is growing larger, between realities i mean, so i medicate myself daily, with caffeine, nicotine, ephedrine and ibuprofen, it's hard out here for a hustler. movies fuck you up man, they make you see and believe and hope and dream for these illegitimate bullshit make believe tales. out here, greed and envy prevail, and the good guy gets pissed on constantly in the rat race of life, as he's trampled so everyone can be stylish and lose themselves in themselves.

it's watching the sun burn and the leaves dry out.

it's being spent and still pushing forth.

it's throwing up liquor that hasn't even been digested, it still has that stench.

poetry is dead
and music is singing it's death tune
i hope none of you understand
and i also hope you all hate my writing,
my cussing and incorrect use of words,
i wipe myself with "poetry" rules
although i am vulnerable
almost all the time
how can i be?
when this world no longer knows the term humanity?
i care too much, and that's probably my demise
anyone who is close to me will understand
i ask too many questions and think way beyond necessary,
but that's because i'm curious
and i do want to know
i saw an older lady, with a walking stroller,
get stuck between the doors of the metro,
and none of the bastards around me would help her
i had to stop, and wedge myself between the door
humanity
hardly any of us have it to begin with.

it's easy to be an asshole; just don't care. sit there, let people get crushed, say, "yeah whatever" and just let everything roll off your spine. it's too much of a task for you to put out your hand, so instead, you ball it into a fist and use it to pound against the walls you've built around yourself.