Millan's Jots: Me and Them

I feel obese and uncomfortably bloated. Also a bit indignant and resentful.

Out of shape. Out of touch. Outta cool. Much too weak for competition ~ the way the bulls do it.

I feel like a loose, fat, blubbery side of tit. Like an oily waste of skin.

Something I don’t wanna be.

Double-chinned and wasted.

Outdated.

Outlasted.

So unlike me.

Too lazy or too tired to work out.

I feel let down ~ Out in the gutter.

In the middle of my sloth period. The Bluebird at his darkest.

I don’t even feel like writing this bullshit.

I don’t wanna do anything except dull my mind, overeat and go to bed w/out brushing my crooked teeth. Stay under the sheets all day long w/my farts and my sock lint and do absolutely nothing while the world has its way with me.

Waste my time like everyone else does but waste it my way.

This!

This apathy. This shit mood.

This is what they do to me.

This is what I need?

Fuck! people.

Fuck! her.

We’ll touch on her later, right now I feel looked over and past due.

In the wrong place @ the wrong time w/the right skill ~

or so I thought.

Too broke-ass poor to even afford myself the time to do anything for me.

The way it should be.

Pamper me.

Beautify me.

Love me.

Rest me.

Lust me but you know what?

Screw you and you and Fuck the world already.

I feel like I need to get out and do things. Positive things. Learned man things.

But then I ask myself for what?

So far the rewards have been shit in my book.

Ingrate?

Maybe.

Things could be worse I guess and I’m sure they will be. It always shits on the brown man, but you know what? I feel like my prime has passed on ahead of me and I should be tossed away right now. Flushed down w/the turds and the ones that wish to die.

I don’t want to see people or deal w/their petty needs.

I don’t wanna work.

I don’t want this body. This will.

Sometimes I just wanna kill is what I want but I don’t know what.

Maybe this is a good thing. A bit whack . . . but good.

I think I know what’s got me so pissed off.

It’s the talk. Her talk.

Vic this and Vic that.

You let him talk to you that way?

What an inconsiderate asshole.

Who does he think he is?

He’s so full of himself.

Full of shit!

Blizz Blazz

Blizzy Blazz

Man, I feel the gossip breeze rising past me and tickling my ears.

I also feel out of the inside loop. Tested like a common rat.

Made fun of. Laughed at.

Stories passing behind my back giving me the finger and making me look like a fool in the process.

“You make yourself look like a fool.”

Fuck you!

I feel like such an idiot. Like such a fucking loser.

Like I shouldn’t write at all but like I said,

Fuck people.

Maybe things aren’t as rough as they should be. Maybe that’s what I need to get my ass in gear again. Could be all I need is “woman” to piss me off like this one more time.

To instigate and then walk away. To press her ugly snout where it doesn’t belong.

Thank you woman.

And yes I say WOMAN because you’re all the same, one as the next. You’re all mad and vulpine.

Manipulating, fragile, hard as steel and charming.

Thank you woman.

Thank you for conniving w/your jealous tongue. For being true to your crafty self.

Maybe this time I’ll learn my lesson and learn you one on payback.

Maybe that’s what people need.

An arrogant pain in the ass bastard like me telling them how their faces should be.

How their world should spin. How they don’t matter when it comes to me and them.

I can’t pretend anymore. Can’t slow down again.

Gotta keep true to self.