MCS it’s the middle child syndrome to talk about dedicated feelings and see the grips of spring, palming your head face down to drown in streams of car trips past apple orchards if the first place you want to go is a hospital it’s okay with me, we can, I mean I can I’ll do anything for you it’s the degenerate and a glass to disintegrate into wet art like a wet t-shirt contest i was invited to all the wrong parties, only so much excitement I can jam in and hold still
1 I don’t see the point of art without people the destination is as important as the journey to me what hippy said otherwise? I can’t remember wanting to punch a hole through a human more I once had a dream where I was laid out on a hardwood floor in a cramped room surrounded by 6 suburbanite bully kids and I was almost in fetal cringeing to protect myself, low to the ground as they laughed and lit firecrackers and threw them around a 6×8 room I live in. Then they looked down to me and said, ‘Short Fuse.’ and laughed. Suggesting it was my fault I was bothered. I felt it was a metaphor for my whole life and I felt very understood by that dream more than by any human in my life. When I woke up I tried to find this understanding with a person in waking life but never found it. If anybody I knew hears from me and cares let me know I don’t have a laptop. I’ve been unemployed for ovver a year now, I don’t have the money so I write my poems in pencil and type them up on my 14 year old brother’s laptop. He has one. This doesn’t make me jealous. For a while we didn’t have the internet at all and I was very comfortable with how little contact I had with the ‘outside world.’ which is what people say when they mean people they know on the internet that like them or people who love them. I’m used to long silences from people who love me on the internet because I have none now. Partially because of a psychological breakdown I had because I thought God was giving me information on a bunch of the people I had added on Facebook to get closer to and I had to let them know exactly how I felt which meant calling them out for sins they never committed and telling all of them how horrible they were. I’m on a lot of drugs for Schizophrenia which they say makes you feel better. I would feel better if I could say sorry but the sad thing is I actually felt some of the horrible things I wrote and I’d be lying to take it all back. yr body my temple where i cum two worship
Atticus Davis is a 25 year old poet and writer in California. His work can be seen in Hobart, Metazen, and The Scrambler + And is the author of a new book Your Aeon his second collection. You can stalk him online through Twitter: @atticusdavis or at his website:goodgravity.tumblr.com