The importance of oral hygeine

Every morning and night when I brush my teeth, I see before me a pretty pink and white mix of foam as I spit into the basin. At first it was a little shocking to see my own blood before me on such a regular occurrence, but in time, as with everything; my attitude towards it paled, and fear grew into an admiration and appreciation- it is so fascinating to watch blood spill in saliva; merging and fighting like water and oil. Then I press the tip of my tongue against the back of my newly exposed gums and let it linger to capture the taste.
Well, you learn to love what you cannot stop.

A dream life

I wish the world worked through the social-political means of a meritocracy. If it were so, perhaps a few people would have more, and a lot more people, less. We would all, in winter, eat the fruits we had reaped from our efforts in the summer, so to speak, and for that, we would all be the wiser and happier.

But we live in unconventional times, where work does not always get rewarded, and rewards may come to those who do so little work, and though millions, everyday, suffer for no aims or reason, we are sold the ruse of happiness, and global economic success. Or so I do believe.

I'm an angry individual, at times, and supposedly a little melancholic. I think too much, and through logically substantial arguments, conviction, and sometimes just a little coercion (for these are the tools of rhetoric) can often make people see as I do- if the 'truth' I see causes upset to others, as sometimes it may, than the lie that existed before is surely happiness. This transcends class, creed, colour, just as happiness and equality should, but does not.

The rich, white, middle class

take their pharmaceutical drugs;

they're unhappy to buy into-

the others take their own drugs;

cannabis, ecstasy.

Microwaves. Radio waves-

polluted air, polluted sea,

polluted food.

Flavour enhancers,

colour enhancers-

society has mass produced

unhappiness

and it's because we're all

fucked.

A dog may be content

to bark,

but it is just a barking dog-

hope is a ruse

when the only truth

is that there is no

equanimity.

And for better or worse,

rich or poor,

white or not,

we all

have reason to complain.

One must always remember...

...the last time we live will always be so closely linked to the first time we die.
There's so very much I've written; yet so very little will ever be seen. I'll try to update as I write from now on;  so the most recent piece for every day I choose to add to this... whatever it is.
This is for a girl whom I wanted to use me, and yet to whom I could only show such dissatisfaction when I felt I got what I had asked for.

I'll be your footstool;
kick up a fuss!
Stamp and stomp,
so that you kick up dust,
and bending slightly,
upon one knee,
I'll stay stable
so you can use me,
won't you change into
those pretty shoes?
Rest your foot upon me,
just a while,
It's bliss to see your leg
as you smile.
And I'll be your ladder,
won't you climb upon me?
I'll take you higher,
so you can grab
what's out of reach
or pin, or hammer,
do as you please!
Know I won't drop you
unless you ask,
but I'll lower you gently
upon completion of task.
People may think
we look a little queer,
but to be pressed
so close to your body,
between your legs,
I hold so dear.

I'm a bit of a cunt

The title doesn't exactly make sense, now, does it? How is one ever only part of another's anatomy? How can a person embody a particular area of oneself, or anyone else, to such a degree that they are, effectively, only worth a segment of ones entirety? I'm drunk and rambling. My food is ready. I'm an arse-hole.

To consider myself

in any way,

I would consider myself

an arsehole.

To some,

it is a thing of beauty;

a grand source of pleasure-

and to others,

it is simply foul

and of only the purpose

to defile.

Whatever one’s view,

there lies a truth;

Shit passes through it.

But do not hate it

for your own interpretation of it,

but consider,

it has its use

within the natural body

and only does

as it can,

as it was made

to be.

To the girl in golden hoops

With a rather wry smile, I write this to you, assuming (with such epistemic luck,) that you should read it, one day. The poem I wrote another time; about a whole Summer ago, after you had left to somewhere else; and feeling now how I did then, and being in largely similar circumstances, and once more; finding the hoop, well... What else could I do...?


Next to my bed
on a small wooden stand
adjacent to the lamp that I
familiarly use
there lies a crooked,
golden hoop.
It’s not much of worth
in terms of gold,
but it’s yours.
This hoop is all yours.
And it’s there,
always
in the same place
by the lamp I frequent
and my pillow; my head;
your golden hoop,
that lays by my bed.
You told me to discard some things,
they were yours,
a sock
some knickers,
you put them in my bin
and they stay there, still,
just like the hoop,
that you left and I placed,
I put it there,
next to my bed
and it reminds me of you,
as, of course,
it would.
There are slides and pins
for your hair on my ‘sil
I gaze out of the window and see them
they, too, are still
and I’ve left them there
in case you return,
you might need or want them
if you ever come back
and I used to think
I’d have nothing of yours
but there you are
right where I can see
whenever I need a light.

Crawling across laminate floors, cleaning, on my knees

-May I ask you a question?
-Positively! Why, you seem to have just done so, right now, without my permission...
-Ah, so you're right, then allow me to postulate a while, (that's an imperative) while I consider how better to rephrase my inquisitive.
-And so you may
-May I ask you three questions?
-In which case, you have another left, so be it!
-And if only I could, then I would...

It isn't really about the question; it never really was.

I didn't understand...

Be still
my aching heart-
you move too soon
to break,
full of remorse
and deep infatuation.
Do not begin
to think there is nothing
else left
because you have lost
all that you had,
and know,
before you jar yourself;
it was your own desire
and so relish
in the sour spell
you have created.