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Selective Empathy

  A selective empathetic is a more sinister evil than the outright unempathetic. The unempathetic is quite small in numbers, and are under more scrutiny. The selective empathetic is one of reflective desire, picking and choosing those to be glad for and wishing to prosper based off of desired personal gain, gain that involves putting others down in the process. This level of empathy is pure submission to outside preachers, outside systems, media, literature, art, and economics, and represents a dark and fallible inner sense. Letting things simply happen, apathetic to their greater truth, nihilistic in meaning, and a walking product of guiding forces around them. A pure empathetic is empathetic to all in all situations, noticing the humanity in all. It is sad to notice the selective empathetic being a prevalent and lauded endeavor, when the qualities of such selective empathetic are thought of also as manipulation. A great contradiction in social morality and personal character judgeme
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Hairy Candy Cane

You are a hairy candy cane Sweet, rough, disgusting I have a sweet tooth I'm addicted to the center I want to lick you And hold you in my hand Bite you And find that sweet core Hairy candy canes get thrown in the trash Somehow I find value in it I wanted to run you under water And remove the dissonant exterior Others say That there's more candy canes And that one can be thrown away And sometimes I agree with them I can't help but have hope for the candy cane That we could experience each other truly But I can't wipe off the hair It's the candy cane's job It hasn't been thrown away yet And its still looking me in the eyes Roping me in to try to fix it Running away when I love it I don't like candy canes anymore And you're the reason I don't think it'll ever get wiped off But hopefully others won't throw her in the trash


  "I don't know how much longer I have," he said, cigarette in hand, lit by the blaze of the sun's rays as it set off into the west. Nightfall was approaching rapidly, and the darkness seemingly increased exponentially as the sun bolted away from the man out of fear. It was a low and downtrodden Sunday evening, a foggy day had occurred, and the whispers and bells from the early church morning service still rang in the man's ear. "Don't give up man," his friend responded, and though the response was very performative and shielded, the performance came from a place of genuine care and empathy.

Unconscious Controlled Critique

A state of subjugation so infantile, yet so disruptive, could the layers of conspiracy go further in its existence? Purportedly, a state media ran through the filter of difference and excitement leveling its own demise for short term satisfaction to the overlords, controlling our every thought and idea to the very core. Is this state ran media a consequence of governmental control, supposedly through the use of democratic means, that theoretically can be shifted determinant on public perception? Partially, yet the media runs further than what we believe it to be. As our eyeballs are ripped out of their sockets to give monetary incentives to this industry, it concludes a multiplicity of ideation that exists on its own, and wrapped around to affect the very authors themselves. Entertainment, as we uphold it, levels a perspective relevant to a minority of beings, centralized in a very few cities, and then controlled by a smaller few individuals within the business sector, and

The Sewer

  TW: Depictions of violence, psychological torment, and rape Wrapping its tentacles around me Keeping me quiet Alone in the sewers I can’t see the outside Sun bellowing in the deep Arising from its slumber Leaving me with interesting thoughts The amount of light similar to a tiny lamp The sun shines itself through the manhole I’m covered in ash and fire Sewage engulfs me into disease The tentacles grow in width No one survives in a sewer like this for long Disease and starvation are the only outcome May God have mercy on my soul God wants me to suffer I’m slipping on the floor Face planting into the water Rats scatter around my hair Smelling of trash and feces A distant smile arises in the tunnel Surrounded by three flamingos The smile’s a bit creepy The flamingos dance into formation “Come dance with us!” They shout The smile stares at me “We’re your oasis, your treasure, your orgy!” The smile creepily makes its grin wider The flamingos doing the tango I’m wearing a sweatshirt It sta


  Man I loved being abused And I think you did too Kinda wish it wasn't over Please come back my four leaf clover Maybe it's no self respect My problem is that I easily forget You and I are the same in that And I think you also want to come back I think the abuse was love A traumatized version from above Neither of us could admit it So we kinda had to split it As Kanye says run away There's nothing left for us to say Except that u can always come back But remember we'll both be under attack

Traumatized Exception Seekers

  The lie Presented as scientific Presented as intellectual Homo Sapien Homo Faber Man the wise Man the maker Truly belittling Autonomy and transcendence Apparent in description Homo sapien and homo faber Perverted the idea of autonomy Existentialism as the cornerstone A transcendence above reality The trauma of constraint within our minds Made us feel the need to escape We were bound by none other Than the slave morality That Nietzsche perverted in its definition A retribution? No, an individuality. Slavery is to the individual As trauma is to the human Interchangeable Equal in refinement Potent in solitary confinement Systemically imposed on ourselves The man is not the maker The man is the lost The man is not the creator The man is the reshaping The man is not transcendent The man is transcendent to himself only Reshaping the human identity As one of an acceptance of loss Necessary in our grievance with the traumatic impact of existence itself One of snark being the sole remainder I