concrete and cruelty,
insult to injury
"this means that, no never mind"
changing shit faster,
than the passage of time

"do this, then that",
"no actually, it's that, then this...
what's that?"...

look who's talking
and look who ain't
blonde bitch, dumb ass
watch as her underlings,
start licking her "quaint"

the  "not there" space between her pussy
and ass
and those that do, they'll be given,
a pass

security, paycheck,
in a time of pandemic,
watch it spread

while the rest of us, carted out
left to wonder, what hell, comes next

treated like we were disposable trash
with keys left, and a "we care"
my ass

no one knows what's going on,
like being blindsided by
a hand job, conned

into thinking there was payoff,
a wad
if we worked hard, be it a bonus
or a chance for advance,
valued, valiant, "good cause" job

but as the days and months
dragged on,
the shit show
proved endless,
as the days grew long

there was only one light, that I could see
just "some guy" I met,
paired up, he and me

to work together and give it our all
slowly realizing this all seemed
predestined to fall...

apart, from the start
but this guy, Jesus fuck,
like a radiant art
of complexity and dangerous
destructive in his perceptive way,
with this

need to free himself, this prison of bull
shit, all around us, society's structures
like a constant blow to his skull

raging out, but reigning, kind
two "mates", in "soul"
who'd already lost their minds
in different ways, with different shades
no, not that garbage,
titled "50 of grey"

that's for "the normals"
who feed and froth, off the top
they skim the soul of everything
like not actually hearing the words
in the songs they all sing

seems we ended up, quite a pair
seeing, smelling the stench, of the stale
in the air
air that offered no bright spot, believe
except for me, in that I loved and lived
his "receive"

as in the feeling, if fleeting,
that he "got me" and liked
all of my crazy and anxiety ridden
mood spikes

deriding from the challenge
of being out in the world
driving blind, my inner compass lost
tangled up in his torn, I found
all preconceived notions, him, tossed

to the wind and back again
his song, so sung,
I never wanted  it to end

but then one day,
we were given the boot
he laughed, we cried,
called this whole thing "a hoot"

as in more "holler" than caller
of a conquest made possible
not in a place this chaotic,
just this side of, kind of awful

funny thing is,
he said he loved chaos
and he found it, this KWAR
and in me, all these emotions
risen forth for him, all the more

time we spent trapped,
like the "stockholm" in "syndrome"
but who's the captor,
who's the captured,
that secret, I surrender,
I know, but never will receive
the real answer

could be one, or could be the other
could be, amongst
the heightened strain, just two brothers

battling this war
called KFuck, Ktwat
like sand through the hand
he, the one thing, no regrets
no "for naught"

found him, loved him
watched him fly
lost him, slayed, when
I saw the tears pour out his eyes

struck me in a way
I cannot quite escape from, forget
see what happens,
some strange, sweet, kind of magic
even if surrounded and swamped
in a sea of Kshit.



bowen hart roselli
31 march 2020
ringwald love