Next Gen

write please read and enjoy

Insomnia has me feeling like my brain is on PCP, ready to fight the whole wide world like a single player on PVE, you know the drill doc, it's basic carpentry, I want you to tap my heart with a faucet, wire a valve through a piece of PVC, then this forced hand writing will all come more naturally, you can put that guilty plea on me, until I can sizzle in the amniotic fluid that I used to be, there's no point, it's all debauchery, this is the pain that tugs, this is your brain and this is your brain on drugs, shiver on the floor, do you prefer hardwood or rugs? Patterns so enigmatic, hypnotic, it infects the minds of bugs, this is the stain on love, semantics' sake, purely you must remain above, the lonely strangers steal hugs, pedestal, peddle fool, spin you gold faster still gotta keep my cool, another angry person with something to say, the world won't tolerate em, they all hate em, they've all heard enough they can't complicate or placate, so they scab over like platelets, the drones of sweet, alluring ignorance, all holding hands to keep the cut from gushing while singing dixie in their barbershop quartets, it's a bust, tamper nothing, they'll scamper to something, all worthless, shine a red light, blink a blue light, hold up something bright and everyone scurries with folders of opinions in loop-anxious media-frenzied overfed fright, it's like seeing the sun for the first time after living your whole life in the night, it's like everything's been left and someone just discovered you can go a new direction: right. It's like originality is a race to who can say it first, there's a million voices on top of any million voices anywhere already placed, you can say your piece the worst, see it reworded into the best version of your vision, stolen and marketed with minimal revisions, and there you have it, imagination rewarded by death in a spotlight, cancerous half-a-half-life half-empty with only air to suck, a flower whose stem can't reach the water in its vase, but whose beauty makes everyone want a pluck, and now there's a fourth wall, and a war call, and I'm looking at alternate timelines like I was Andy Warhol, what did Nixon ever know? He made an oval face, looked at the tapes and just said no. 

Alright, writer, make sense, no more stream of conscience nonsense, it's not word games, respond to what I say with what you heard games, it's not dropping references and names, you've been under pressure, under stress, get over yourself and decompress, take this ball of bile, blackened, bitter bomb of odious construction collecting in my chest and set it off on a page until the load becomes less, gunpowder and sulfur can hang in the air by my toes when I'm done, while my eyes grab red lines as if I'm drawing a maze to the iris, fading out while staring up at the sun, I'll put it all plain and forward, word for word, if I'm hurried be sure you've heard, if you sleep during this, rest assured, it's no line blurred, no speech slurred, no more detour deterred, I possess a demon whom genocide resides inside with eons of bloody pride and an entire tide of souls have died pulling their eyes out in screeching madness and suicide, laying down to suffer beside a spawn of passion incarnate with majestic homicide, whose tongue has split families into tragic feuds where it has lied, whose fingers fetch folly from hearts without a guide, who is to fresh air as a cloud of hydrogen cyanide my domicile is the reflection of your final moments as you are brutalized by one you've known and trusted, who's got you all alone, now see your face flash in their teeth when they smile, I am a manic satanic panic, a brooding mood of a human being, my inner darkness would be enough EMPs to kill the nuclear energies of the sun if that wickedness would this way come in freeing, the tender moments I have are with the meat I cut away from soft and fatty flesh of feeble people that I force to flee my presence, you filthy animals all procreate and makes goals to abolish hate, your virtues are the falsehoods my soul resents 

Have no children 

skip a generation 

let the world breathe 

let her recover from mankind 

make no life, eradicate your infants

skip a generation 

we don't need more time, give the earth a chance. 

Reviews

[Ezel_Amaru]

Wow wow wow

A pen of equal ink , you manipulate words with forward thrusts so it fills between the lines of what your mind considers to be , an open concept. A liberty of underestimated rights. Your voice revealed. A distinct sound given to every reader. A lullaby that plays in their mind yet each record sounds different. An alternate description. That varies on the very musician, who sees with their ears and listens with their eyes to what you have written. A false hope nevermore, from one beat to another . A composition of emotion. Detailed thoughts of anger and disarray. Your inner voice released to scream on this online diary of endless pages .
I enjoyed your script. I apologize I took it as a challenge to write what I felt because of your written line.
Alright, writer, make sense, no more stream of conscience nonsense, it's not word games, respond to what I say with what you heard games, it's not dropping references and names, you've been under pressure, under stress, get over yourself and decompress, take this ball of bile, blackened, bitter bomb of odious...