Memories like cinder blocks

I will remember you. It’s something we all want to hear. Something whether we admit it or not we yearn to be told. To know that we impacted another’s very existence to such a degree that we earned a spot in the grey matter. You wake up each day to a life you don’t need doing things no one really cares about in order to receive the gravitas of puerile you don’t particularly like. Get born get educated get high get laid get beaten get real get old and get dead. A endless cycle as old as time. I often wonder if we started even measuring times passage as another way of acknowledging our selves. I mean did anyone ever care to think of who could hold their breath the longest our who could go the longest without breaking into masturbatory ? These things didn’t matter, why? Frankly because in the Hunter gatherer sense we didn’t need them. What occurred is we because self aware. We started to have more time to notice things. To think things through. To plot. And so we began siren this endless shit dance poking and prodding and humping everything we could. We took simple beautiful things and made then terrifying. We over complicated ourselves with emotions and desires. I of course would rather scoop your eyes out with a melon baller than relinquish the strangle hold I believe I have on my being. Though it makes me wonder why a guy like me even had a fucking melon baller. A entire language raped and crafted from hundreds before it to express how I feel about the useless things I made to better suit my consumer lifestyle addiction. Pointless. Like so much else it all it’s meaningless. I could throw around ten dollar words all day long but if I’m describing shit why don’t I just say shit? Cause I want you to respect me, I want you to listen to me. The goal is to make you crystallize these moments in your cerebellum. To freeze the instant in time, to marry it to circumstance and become this thing in the days to come while settled nicely into your circle jerk you can reference and sound so hip. Pointless. Rebellion was never real it was a trend. You behaved how you were expected and were the better for it. Or. You went to far and because a headline. Either way the message was clear. None of us are as start as we like to believe we are. We are all just one bad day away from beating the person next to it’s to death with our espresso. One bad day from getting in on the joke.

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