The Antithesis of You

Some people are meant to be hot grease and bubbling chaos. Some people are meant to be impotent and inert; stuck in the moment. Some people will never know anything for sure; will never perceive the world beyond their own perceptions; and some people are proud of that. Some people are meant to be Clichés.

Hold your tongue, don’t say it, edit.

Some people will always be almost; on the perimeter, smirking from the sidelines: able to see, process, and understand the argument, but never quite willing to participate fully in the conversation without shutting down. Some people will never flower:

Roses, Tulips, Orchids, and Gerber Daisies.

Some people will never be Romantic Comedies, Disney Sound Tracks, or The Stupid Fuck that does that thing to get that girl; and lives happily ever after. Some people are just broken pieces of granite.

Fuck You! Douchbag! Retard! Faggot!

Some people don’t agree. They will always be the quark model and never string theory. Some people cannot exist on multiple planes of existence. They are segmented slices of linear logic incapable of temporal projection or inverted teleportation. They are on the corner of 2012 with the closet door shut and the gun shoved up against their soft pallet preparing for the Age of Aquarius the only way they know how. Some people are gory masses of grey matter.

Black T-Shirts, Bloody Fingers, and Festering Bits of Infection.

Some people are all dark substances, failed dreams, and harsh realities; burnt porcelain plates of cigarette ashes and empty cups of coffee. They cannot help but witness millions of people cry in unity and love, and laugh at the silliness that humanity is capable of. The intermeshing of souls and the magnetism emitted by the collection of personal light is not something that they can see. So to keep from going mad alone and choking in the dark, they make a keening sound; contort their faces; and contract their bodies in the semblance of a laugh. Some people are jackals. They tease. They make brilliant intellectual quotes; and pretend to be better off.

We Love You Michael!!

Some people will never appreciate the color Pink. (or pastel blue, or neon green, or canary yellow) Some people are gender incarnate, race incarnate: tradition undefined. Some people are bound by the geographic borders of their father’s thoughts. Some people are anomalies within the uniformity of space; they are all make believe, half truths, and blindly painted pieces of obfuscation. They are wedding rings and boyfriends, unsaid sentences to questions that go unasked. They stand in the pool of surrounding waters drinking up the nourishment of the fairies and sprites that play on the banks, but when danger comes they become mud and wood and leave the rest to bear the slaughter. Some people are not loud. Some people do not define themselves. Some people think that means something.

Nobody. Nothing. Cipher.

Some people are a collection of techno-babble. Some people are vinyl records. Some people are obscure references. Some people are furtive glances. Some People are words on a blank page. Some people are simple truths. Some people are black muscles in Pink Shirts. Some people are Bi-Boys with Brown Eyes. Some People are just Good Men. Some People say “I love you” and mean it. Some People know when to let it go, some people know when to hold their tongues, some people process in private . . . and some people don’t.

This is not about you.
This is about him.
And me