In 2025 the United States as we know it will cease to exist.
In 2042 I will die, alone and impoverished, in a shoddy facility set up, quickly and haphazardly, to house the elderly and terminally ill.
Between those two events, my wife will die of a medical emergency.
In 2070, or thereabouts, humanity as we know it, the world as we know it, will end.
All of us, in some way, know these things, know of our own deaths, the deaths of those we love, and the inevitable destruction of humanity. Yet we continue to live, rise, eat, work, watch television, follow politics, read novels, play at sports, enjoy music, love and laugh, hate and suffer, as though it really matters. Because, after all, the day-to-day is the only thing that really matters.
Although the day-to-day doesn’t matter in the least. Not in the cosmic infinity of the universe. Not in the cosmic infinity of time.
Cosmic infinity does not matter, does not actually exist. All that exists is the here and now, which, however, do not exist as they are over the instant they can be contemplated. I do not exist. These words, ghostly flickers on a page, do not exist.
I am the only thing that exists, along with my words. I write some kind of record, some kind of meaning, because I have no choice, even though it will all vanish by, or long before, 2070, or thereabouts.
My only potential children were miscarried away in the early aughts. I thought they ought to live. These writings are the closest I have to a child, or children, but will be quickly disappeared.
I cannot stand the thought of the end of humanity, although it is of less concern to me than the death of my wife. I cannot stand the thought of my wife’s death, although it is less final to me than my own death, which I cannot comprehend or actually believe.
We exist in dimly lit, dingy, small rooms with painted block walls or some 2020 version of 70s wood paneling Surrounded by wires, and machines, and monitors, and pseudo concerned individuals asking if you have not just a plan but means Then we transition to cozy couches, zen gardens, and inspirational quotes for about an hour at a time talking about all the terrible shit in our lives Struggling with how sad or suicidal we really are if the only thing stopping the finality of death being we worry about how others would be impacted But we know this is not life Or at least how we should exist “Have you tried live, laugh, love” someone asks because Facebook told them to We’ve probably tried it all short of recharging our vitality by sunning our assholes in the great wide open turning our rears to the sun Well, some might have even done that Tried everything, maybe even the drugs Not the fun kind (but we’ve tried them too) The prescribed meds But only to stop or doubt the reward I mean, at the end of the day, we still want to feel To not be numb or blunted And we want our dicks to still work Put us in nature Pound some drums and let us feel bass in our soles and souls Be an ear Be a shoulder Be a presence Just don’t be an asshole who tells me we are lucky we are privileged enough to be sad about shit because others have it worse and we will get better if we did something for ourselves and thought happy thoughts. Let us express ourselves without it being perceived as hostility Or weakness Or being pussies who can’t “man up” I cried today I’ll cry again Maybe even before lunch Don’t look away or dismiss Hand me a tissue Better yet, keep the box for yourself and let me let them flow proudly Just don’t expect any of this to actually cure or fix us WE. ARE. NOT. BROKEN. We just aren’t our best selves right now But we are getting there And if the product has some cracks we embrace it It gives us character It gives us history It gives us hope because if we sealed them once before we can again We ask you don’t walk for us Walk with us Walk away from us Just don’t get in the fucking way
I’m 1
Today, I celebrate my first birthday Though I’ve been on earth about 40 years, a year ago I had a rebirth after complete immolation It seems I was covered by someone else’s gasoline for so long It’s almost like I had comfort in the suffocating fumes Finally, like a protesting monk I decided to strike the match and bask in the incineration It was like a warm hug I had been neglected of for so long Excruciating at first, in fact, so bad that I had become numb Unless that was just my nerve endings, the source of feeling, being destroyed But I knew regeneration and healing would be on the horizon And, if I was transformed to ash, possibly reincarnation See, one can never avoid lies One can never avoid manipulation and betrayal One can never avoid being taken for granted But my soul had learned it doesn’t need to tolerate it And that moment created the spark that was catalyst for a new life
This is getting old and I ain’t getting younger either
woke up today finally feeling good believed I just may have beaten the malaise one hour and it’s back to normal whatever that means dread paranoia fight/flight activated only semblance of drive is to exist survive not thrive and just barely the type of state where I desire to reopen my wounds of the metaphorical and literal not to prove not for spectacle not for you but for me the sole purpose being to bleed
Register 7
Everyday I see people at their worst Confused and disoriented Disorganized and delirious Talking to Jesus Being Jesus Being Obama’s spouse Refusing medication Cursing, yelling, threatening Punching and kicking objects Punching and kicking walls Punching and kicking…people Biting Throwing piss and shit Eating staples and antennae and screws Reopening scars and scabs that exist for years And just as quickly as they enter my path They are gone without a trace And then one day they’re ringing me up at the grocery store And I know, if even for just that single moment, they are doing OK
Superhuman Skin
I have superhuman skin I can assist and rescue others with reckless abandon for my well-being I can put on the suit and tie the boots tight and enter the world solely for others I have no qualms about taking the words, the hits, the consequences when necessary
I have superhuman skin except when I need a hero My brain is a villain My heart is a foe My behaviors a nemesis Enemies that sap my will and strength and leave me paralyzed in fear I hold my kryptonite
So I have superhuman skin until I need to wear it for me.
Dumpster Fire Press 