Start organizing. Start showing up to meetings. Start bringing your co-workers to the meetings. Start voting on actions you want to enact.
I’m frustrated, too. Although venting online may help, it doesn’t fix the problem. Be the change you want to see. It won’t happen today. It won’t happen tomorrow. Over time, change will come. It all starts now. Start now.
Some of you people playing these stupid games need a hug. It’s pathetic. This desperation for power, attention, clout is unnecessary and only results in two people agitating each other. What’s the point of this nonsense besides a commiseration of misery? Do the work, go home. It’s easy. But of course the band of button-pushing, booger-eating brothers continue to egg each other on with this petty lunacy. Cowards.
The customer refused it. UBBM. End of story. We’re getting paid pennies to deliver horsespit that some people clearly don’t want. But you, Lord Almighty of the Wedgie Wars, are trying to prove a point? For what? What do you win? Get a hobby. Or a cat.
(V) I ain’t no saint
It’s just a bruise
Got trouble with trustin’
And nothing to lose.
(V) Sometimes I’m afraid
People need a break
We’ve been through something
I don’t want to be fake.
(I) I don’t mean
to take
it all out
on you.
(V) Cracked a few ribs
And I can’t give a fuck
But know that deep down
With you, can’t mess it up.
(V) Small vic trees ahead,
Rack em up
Until there’s
more than a few.
(C) Seriously though,
I can’t do this
Without you
Without you,
I can’t breathe
Without you,
Colors fade
And turn to black
Without you
Without you.
V
This is what
I have to do…
Is this what
I have to do?
that’s my trick, too.
Fingers gonna crack
every winter,
ain’t no fixin it,
just gotta deal with it.
I hydrate,
Vaseline
with gloves
at night,
but without fail,
got these
daily reminders
on my fingertips
that’ll fade
as the days age.
Sometimes
I Fail.
I try and try
Yet To no avail.
Like a gull
Chasing a ship,
Flyin gainst
The wind,
just to
Sit on a sail
But
Sometimes
I fail.
Sometimes
Most times
I Fail.
Like a fool
Comin in late
To the final
Of life
Pencils unsharpened
Dead calculator
But genuine
With every intent
Hell-bent
To succeed
But sometimes
I fail
Such a good word
I have a hungry soul. I will feed you.
(MAJOR PAUSE)
However,
I see my life as a handful of sand
Gravity mixed with time
In the palm of my hand
slowly slipping away
I ponder on the purpose of it all.
Existential crisis
Not quite yet
But well on my way
No one ever tells you yo about the tedium of monotony that is comfort.
I realize the personal recognition of my social anxiety originated from going to these house and Telly parties as a yooot in da hood, and being surround by all these sex people congregating andgyrating in a hot ass basement of tiny kitchen that managed an island in a studio apartment, and knowing the underlying fact of my happiness is dancing to music, grinding with a bombastic chick with house music bumping, and watching anime in shared solitude all night with only one other like-minded soul.
I tell people I’m an onion, and they never believe me.
I don’t like to be followed.
I avoid being under the influence.
Augmented reality looks like expensive enhanced hallucinations to me.
2024
We’re in the future, and it’s looking pretty weird to me.
There’s this strange disconnect with reality occurring that makes me somewhat dizzy.
I don’t do it for the gram.
I barely Facebook as it is.
I spend more time killing, blocking, prohibiting advertisements on FB, that I think I’ll call it quits.
You win, Lord Zuckerberg. The endless scroll of doom did me in. You stole all my friends and replaced each one with ten companies who want my money.
If you want to reach me, feel free to email me…but who will see this?
The algorithm encourages extroverts to post post post. I don’t post enough to be visible.
Quandary…
