Posts tagged ‘fat’

December 26, 2015

Fat and Bloated

Now is when I feel fat & bloated. I want
to juice cleanse and run and move and not sit
and not eat. Mario Kart seems an appropriate
lecture; people yell and scream at a tv screen.

I witness this while others are starving,
while watching A Christmas Story. Sometimes
I want to shoot my eye out. The flow of this
media is like red velvet-lined handcuffs.

Some die with their hands up on a couch.
The world is cruel. Loved ones are spoken of
at the bar. They died a few warm years back.
Peppermint drinks come in coffee mugs and

in-laws come with drunken cheer, my pants
come taut and Facebook blows up with new
engagements. I wonder if they really know.
Some give support and get it. Others don’t.

Respect comes in consumerism and what
you can bring them, and I still worry about
my weight. My youngest sister tells me I
am skinny. Jesus is on the computer screen.

The bar life in downtown is docile, a perfect
place to feel heavy and finish a $7 pitcher
of Spotted Cow; I feel better already. Growing
farther apart, and bigger, and older, and more

prone to upset all those around me. At least
I feel fat and good being myself. And some
start, and others pick winless battles. Now,
what a great time to feel fat and bloated.

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February 1, 2015

Super Bowl Whatever

American Consumerist Party:
Greased commercials and ads-
Flash fast on the television screen;
As pupils contract and expand.

May 17, 2012

The Unimaginable Event

*Hey Little Man!

How can you stand it?

Knowing, maybe not owning, the fact that I’ve planned this.

Lost control and now you sit damaged, Goddammit.

Exhausted and ravaged; lungs expanded and contracted.

Breathing, physically feeling disadvantaged.

Off course and underprepared, nothing, yet, about you is shrouded, stares glared.

Hey Little Man!

Lost all hope, pififul use of pity, did she get with thee?

Highly doubted.

Did she miss me?

She sits with me, you see?

She knows, she tells, she looks with eyes misty.

Challenging the witty, can’t even mention those who can’t hold a candle.

Blow. 

Hey Little Man!

Your girl is in love with life and freedom and, most of all, happiness.

She loves it half to death, and its real, care to wage a bet?

We lounge on clouds all week holding hands, secretly in our heads, peacefully, I suggest.

I won’t get on one knee.  I am silent as she chats you up on the phone. Finger to her lips, she says shhhhhhhhh.  Hands on her hips, she doesn’t mind, the feeling is mutual.  We don’t mind; a Nihilist’s attraction.  

Hey Little Man!

You are not little in stature, only emotionally, bulbous and plastered, physically underkept; natural disaster.

Fucking realistically, I apologize sort of for vocabulary brutality, but it is a reality that cannot be changed, such is the gravity of situation.

Fate.

Trashing those about you to elevate your ideals and appearance, maybe, I beg not, self-worth.

And you call them friends.

And they call you names.

Your high quality gene make-up is hanging forever on the Clearance rack, clear it to the back.

Me:  On track, and out of line, I guess.

You‘ve taken good care of your body.”  -Casino Royale

What about your mind?

Hey Little Man!

It is clear to see, I take the hint, I don’t want to be what exists in your stint.

I see you; purposefully wasted, date belated, presence faded.

And I still write.

And I still drink.

And I still do yoga.

And I still stay fit.

And I still meditate.

And I still expand my mind.

And I could go on.

And I am still here.

Know your enemy, you are my nemisis.

Where does that leave us?

And what with?

Inflict damage mentally and physically to the enemy; discouraging them softly with kindness and attrition. 

Hey Little Man!

Bastard to love.

Running to and fro, giving up everything to appear high above those you know.

Small mystery, you couldn’t accurately describe me precisely to my excitement and advantage.

Hint:  White-sort of red, 5’9ish , around 175, drunk and violent, with equanimity behind the eyelids.

(But if you want more description check out my other blogs:  dirtyterry.wordpress.com, Mindinversion.net, if you can manage.)

Small-time someone, I guess, from some big city vs. rural kid from a village sitting pretty with your sissy or your misses.  

It really depends on the day.

Hey Little Man!

The facade is over, the charade is up, the noose is out; loose til taught with your flesh’s touch.

Caring too much about the trivial I pardon to beg, and all this was found out when your girl made me ***s.

Carrying no hatred, aggression, or ill will.

No lie.

Pay attention.

I just thought of you and I know you think of me still, get the message?

“And I’m jumping in your bitch if she had a prayer.” -Lil Wayne

The most dangerous thing in the world is something you don’t understand, something that is so curiously out of your grasp.

Something so fixating and still, that is ubiquitous and never out of existence.

You think, you sit, you stare.

You lose yourself, you lose track of yourself and there is no real time to face the facts.

Figure out the facts and the details, be honest with yourself and worry about you and yours.

Stop focusing on others when there is so much to fix with yourself.

Truly.

Make yourself better and you will be making everyone else better.

I try.

*the events, people described, and times within this story are completely fictitious and made up, so let it go.

Poof!

***

I still sit up in the night to sleep talk.  She told me I stare into the dark corner.  I am pretty determined.