|Privileged. Maybe between the two facts that my parents aren’t divorced and I had a warm bed every night. But some of the shit I’ve had to deal with on the low, the shit I’ve decided not to share or show to the one’s I best know. Has made it hard to keep my mouth shut, hard to hide it inside. The nightmares, that actually happened, of people chasing and calling me fat that have scarred me for life. The fact that I’ve seen an old friend deteriorate into no more than an ordinary bum. Witnessed an alcoholic get too used to his rum. A girl I used to love, telling me her favorite drink is cum. Cocaine taking over a baby’s momma who I used to crush during middle school summers. Another old friend, who I made promises, can’t leave his mother’s. All the rest fighting a war no one understands. Might not sound so bad compared to the lives of others. Cause I haven’t been arrested. I haven’t robbed a bank, but was sent to therapy for stealing candy. I haven’t been shot, haven’t had a reason to tie money in a knot. I’ve had to run from gunshots. I haven’t held a dying friend in my arms since my dog. Crying every night as I petted her. I haven’t experienced air raid alarms. I’ve had to save a life by bloodying my knuckles. Haven’t been to jail, except for the Travel Channel. I haven’t truly kissed a girl in 6 years. I have shirts soaked by female tears, but all theirs stay dry. I have an uncle who killed himself and everyone tells me I remind them of him. Yeah, I agree. It’s not a lot. But it’s enough. Enough to ruin the dreams.
The dreams of fame and hummers have been reorganized into files unfaithful to the conversations between Catholic kids. Now we just work at Lids and use the cash to smoke on Mids. Dreams have turned to Biddies and Titties, scrapping our dicks against them only to regretfully create Kiddies. Who will grow up listening to more bullshit like the Murphy Lees and Diddies, which made us just want to fuck bitches and get money while taking over cities…It worked. Minus the city part, we’re just locked up in the basements of our parents’ wallets while writing shit like this, thinking its art.
Art nowadays is only accepted if you have a photogenic face and a high-rise place where you can handle your bitches. Creating a prototype figure all the girls want. Attracted to the body rather than the mind. Leaving the normal kids, like us, behind. I’m not being negative, only being honest. Most of the talent in the world has been buried under soil used to absorb the piss of immature assholes who remixed a beat of a remix and surrounded it with bullshit. Now we have people claiming they are illuminati and rep 666. Creating followers out of the soil, degrading them to the bloated corpse 6 feet under.
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