I have become disillusioned with the branches that twist along my family tree.

I see falling leaves, balding from old age and;
generations of ignorance, generations of disbelief.
And I can't believe it, I refuse to. Because it feels like
betrayal and humiliation. And I'm tougher than that, okay?
I've made myself harder than that.

Father dear,
I'm a neighborfucking scientist;
lame in one leg but I will crawl across the stars of my own Bitter Way
until I reach the end of the start of the day and
prove you guilty beyond your forever
unreasonable doubt. I am going to win this one, like I promised.

And I need to rid myself of these parasites
that insist on clinging to my
There is no more time for this bliss-less youth and immaturity;
these days spent watching half-hearted black love comedies.
Because there is a closet behind the vodka shouts and
smoking clouds.
So don't hotbox me in, my friends. I am alive.

The ocean, the ocean. I think I need to split the seas.
Because I'm almost half sure the fields are waiting for me.
And I'll walk into town, white top and blue jeans like an -

Eager child, the keen one doubling as self-security.
Or not, you egotistical bitch of a bitch. (Oh, really?)
but damn, I am;
roller rockin', half lidded badass.

And as always, I'll have to pass on this hypocrite jamboree;
this sanctimonious morgue and
unholy gathering
because, you see, I just about fucking refuse;
to be weighted down by the expectations of my an-ces-tors,
and their laughably tame visions, innocuous night terrors.
They wouldn't know what hit them if I did;
if I blew their world right off the grid and into my
ink&blood-soaked blueprints.

Implosion. Explosion.
Ka-boom, Ka-pow!

I am deefective and blue and red;
half dead.
Eternal cliché, of the scream and shout kind.
I am mind -
fuck phenomenon.
Thank you very much, I said. Now, hold on.
I said, now you just
hold on.

A/N: I rebel against myself.