.
Sometimes it seems pointless
There was a point
Where I was addicted
To not being addicted
To things
Kicked that habbit
Gave up on giving up
Because being a misanthrope
Only works around people
...other people
Truth is I rather like people
When they're not around
Don't tell them but
The most times
I've masturbated in a single day
Is six
After that
I ran out of stuff to think about
Also I was pretty sore
There was a point
That I thought the things
I really liked
Were things I was addicted to
Had to be gotten rid of
I know better now
I know
For example
That I'm not
My own harshest critic
Friend of my girlfriend once saw me
Performing poetry
He described me to her as having
"no redeeming qualities"
I'm unclear if he said this
Not knowing that we're going out
Or because of that
Either way I'm almost certain
She doesn't agree with him
Even if I do, at times
She's the smartest person I know
...except for the bit
Where she's still going out with me
She's also the kindest
Don't know what she sees in me
I do know that-
There are lots of stupid questions
There are always wrong answers
In every situation
You'd be amazed
How often I think
Of the wrong thing to say
But then don't
Mmm then again
y'probably wouldn't
There was a point
I gave up writing poetry
Then I gave up on giving up
I still have some stories to tell
When the kid asked me
What it's like to work in prisons
When someone asks
what all that extra stuff on my bike is for
When my teacher asked who Randall is...
For now
Just throw my garbage over your fence
Without separating out the recyclables
In write
I write for an audience
And any jackass that says they don't
Is a fucking liar
Who probably can jerk off seven times
And even more
Every day
Without running out of ideas
Or getting sore
Such people make for poor friends
I mean not that I don't
Just that I tend to categorise friends
With addictions
Except I like the things I'm addicted to
Which means poetry isn't one
There was a point I thought it was
All pointless
Too much of anything
Makes you an addict
Or just shit-boring
Most of my friends shit me to tears
So I'm fine
Except for
The big fucking hole in my roof
And it's going to rain tonight
And this isn't a metaphor
Even if it is
A perfect
Fucking
Metaphor
I'm still writing
And masturbating
Most days
They are so similar
(6)
Despite my brain's best advice
I have no immediate plans
To quit anything
Or anyone
It's far better trying
To add things to your life
Than trying to subtract
It's sometimes seems pointless
It's not
Really
I just have no points to make
Right
Now
I'm
Just
Here
Halfway between
A really fowl mood
And a really minor panic attack
Standing hands in pockets
Trying to look like I know
What I'm doing here.
.
___________________
.
-Peace.
.
.
