Hi, I write things. Some of them are good. I wrote at least one of them with you in mind. Try and find it. If I did my job right, it should not be hard.

Whoever you are, know that you are not alone and we are in this together until we're not. Then, it doesn't matter anymore. The universe goes on and us along with it.

You are suffering in your own special way and for that I am sorry. Being human is a pretty tough gig when reality tends to shatter our worldview on the regular. Here's hoping that my words reflect some fractured piece and make the whole puzzle a little more put together.

Fatten the Curve

If you plot populations throughout history
Counting back from now to antiquity
You may notice a startling asymmetry
when charting our ironic morbidity

Graphs place you in the top percentile
When nations crumble as eyes turn docile
When we huddled massive must now reconcile
Maybe our ancestors went out in style

Would you rather be born in ages agrarian
Oppressed by noble contrarians
Or struggle with classes proletarian
Who have proved just as totalitarian

Be born in a time in famine and fable
And lucky enough to make it past the cradle
Or be destroyed by technologies most fatal

Odds are you were born in that moment
When populations had an exponent
As centigrade rose and coastlines floated
And when everything simply exploded.

It was a numbers game in the conclusion
Be you humanitarian or Malthusian
The rare peasant died young in delusion
But a majority went out in collusion.


So much depends on a used bowflex,
glazed with fresh tears,
besides the two people fucking.

I’m out

I’m Out

Fuck it, I’m out.
It’s gotten to that point where the rat’s got to swim.
You all seem so intent on looking out for that prime number
The one that doesn’t divide very well.
The one that always equals itself when everything is square.
It’s time I took the goddamn hint.

This isn’t my country anymore.
If it ever was, it was because I was blind and deluded.
Suckered into a mass hysteria dream
Where we are all convinced we could do better.
When we stood firm on the ground with reason.

No, that’s just a trick.
We’ve never evolved much past our tree swinging days
Take that both ways
One’s a religion and the other’s a state.
Weren’t the pillar and the rock supposed to be
Dare I say it -
Separate but equal?

What for?
I paid my dues, said my pledges and did my time.
All it got was me was high enough
To see just how it operates.
I served, learned, lived,
breathed, marched, swore,
defended, amended, rear-ended,

That’s bit is supposed to look like a torn flag
Cleverer than a constitution.
Cleverer than a highly cherished societal rule.
A hummurabi’s code of our generational search for justice.
Where laws are just bad memories.
Callous exclusion of little details.
The poor, the disdvantaged, the infirm, the broken
the callous, the jaded, the hated, US.

That part looks like nothing.
It’s pure slight of hand.
An optical trick to simulate depth.

Can we call ourselves civilized?
When so much goes wrong
When so many really fucking suffer.
It seems kinda broken.
All around us jagged and burnt out doll houses.
Each of us coming to terms
with awakeing from that same mass hysteria dream.
A collective consciousness,
deigned and designed
to enforce its enrollment.
A controlling custom of cutscene contraptions.

What if we got it all wrong, folks?
What if we actually invented the devil.
We built a machine and system so broken
That it tailors our own personal unhappily ever after.
Full of everything wrong with the world.

We fight for our happiness.
We look for a deeper meaning in the words and the songs.
But it might be time to forget all that.
To put away childish things
And to remember
what’s important.

And to remember
That the only alternative is.
A collective and chorused,
“fuck it, I’m out.”


Sometimes, I rather wish you died on the table,
That you and I had not been survivors.
You, the cancer statistic,
Me, the product of my childhood.
Then, we wouldn’t be a moral and a fable.

Yet, you continued to defy logic.
A defiant dervish, sallying and rallying,
Whirling, through the horde expectant.
Cockroaches deserve more praise.


Threesomes aren’t a very good solution.
For marital aides or conflict resolution.
Not for any antiquated moral reason.

They lack a mathematical proof.
No grammar can save you.
When one parties rounded
And the other’s confounded

Pearl necklaces or otherwise.

The geometries are odd.
The lines don’t align.
When the junctions join
Be it mouth or loin
Orifice or edifice
There’s always a dangling variable.

The set of all sets is inclusive
When the quadrants are balanced round.
Pleasure can exponential
With a proper differential