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November 28, 2011 by Rivky

This was written while feeling frustrated for having a difficult time because I had been doing well and progressing with so many different projects. I was forced to take it down a notch because of too much outside stimuli which ironically was increasing my creativity and worsening my symptoms simultaneously. Yeah..I don’t get it. But anywho, I revised it for Fountain House’s literary magazine because I used the word Fuck quite randomly and often for emphasis on the rawness of not being able to grasp the intangible. Luckily, I discovered a way to use WTF..which helped a great deal in the delivery of my passionate rage…lol.
WTF. A window of hope to ward nor malady and then. BAM.

There you are, out to play me, trick me, mock me, touch me.

For What? Disconnected Human form because I am not.

Or is it YOU that isn’t? Sorry, huh? Internal rage, exhaustion.


Too many projects maybe? Take it down a notch.

Focus in on less tasks to tsk tsk the fools.

Yes, I’ll take the shield of armor.

WTF, mutated, mutilated, confounded perplexity.

Discomforted puzzle, significantly positive to and for this release.

Engrossed, engaged, occupied…


T’was supposed to progressively keep things inventive and sprightly-

Assiduously defeated, becoming negligent.

Swamped by the algae of a daring routine that

The deluge could not be contained.


I have a life, you know. Yeah, busy persevering,

Yes, thankful for glorious breaths of life.

Lifeless is the life of time-tranced, phases of

Jekyll and Hyde,


I’m catch twenty two’d and diametrically opposed.


Rays of my sunny side up with a side of bacon,

Hold the grease.

Clear skies against the colors of a thousand sounds and suns

That inevitably become a muddled delusion of a discordant rainbow.


So much for, strokes of brilliance, through the scenic field of grazing,

Goatless shadows that lurk and quiver with the

Rise and fall of capturing the snap of the shot of luminosity.

I’ll grab a handful and save it in my back pocket.

With golden embers flashing over

Dampened, sodden, solemn earth.


No more greenless than the garden of grey matter

Between myelin sheaths of twisted imbalance.

Go. go, misfire, you neuronal freaks and



For this consistent, tiresome, daunting mission of

Organizing, organisms organically grown by, orgasmically

Potential conception consuming this physical, microcosmic

Amalgamation of an empty shell that streams

Frequency cracks from hydrogen and oxygen deprivation.



Enraged, wired and tired, disoriented distinctions of

Turmoil turned to boil. Die already.Turn to dust..

Into the ether you go now.



I’m irritable. I’m cold, I’m hot, I’m snappy, wired,

I’m not.

I’m not here to understand what to know what

I write or feel or think. None of these intangible,

Abstract ungrounded, la la, whooey, coagulated shards of

Corporeal embodiment claims to sustain the very core, thrusted in my being.



What…The…Flen, Flyys and Freris-

For confusing the elements of

What is Me.




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