All by myself.
AND!!?
and nothing…
Nothing!
Monkeys bitching about survival issues.
The analogy works, and it separates me from them.
You don’t see a lot of monkeys without a hand, without a leg, without an arm.
They’re probably out there, surviving.
Depends on the social hierarchy, otherwise, it’s just monkeys.
Stayin alive, stayin alive,, ha ha ha ha stayin aliiiiive.
Monkey nature.
Forget thrive, forget moving mountains or changing minds..
Like it even matters..
Growl and look for the monkey behind you in the knife-blade.
You can count on em..
You can place bets on it.
Grab a shovel and dig a little deeper,
“Why ants?”
Why do I find a colony of ants endearing, while finding a crowd of monkeys repulsive?
Relatability.
Ants aren’t going to try to convince you that there’s a savior ant.
Ants aren’t interested.
What is good for the group?
The only thing that matters.
Monkeys are about the individual,
A pair of eyes tied to a brain and looking at the sky. Watching the stars pass by and realizing that we’re spinning..
Ants wouldn’t do that,
Ants got no need to give a fuck about that.
I don’t think ants would gossip as much.
I don’t think they’d spread rumors or zero in on another ant, I don’t think they’d find it entertaining..
Monkeys would.
A monkey love fuckin around with another monkey…
Eyeballing the “survival issues”.
I hate em..
(Yeah?)
Yeah.
Indifferent to them.
I like a one, I dislike the village.
I do not seek connection.
Do not seek recognition.
I do not find any comfort with them.
I don’t find them to be particularly “nice”, and if you bet on the worse behavior,,,well?,,,,, you’ll be right.
Sad, but right.
I can’t get away.
I don’t need em.
An ant has no interest in attacking your name or reputation, no interest in fucking around with people’s perception, that’s some exclusively monkey shit.
(Sad boy)
Awake boy.
Wish I had the luxury of optimism, but it’s you, a lifetime of watching you, that’s how I arrived here.
Bleh…
Puke…
And now, like every day, I have to get up, have to shower and assemble clean clothes, then I have to go out there.
And act.
Act like I don’t really feel this way.
People can tell, but only when I can’t muster up the energy to give them a performance.
Gotta be fake.
Can’t tell the truth.
Gotta be just like you.
Or they’ll throw you out.
They’ll fire you, even if you do solid work, even if you get results.
If your perspective bothers them…
Doesn’t matter if you’re right or not.
“He’s gotta go”
Somebody shut him the fuck up.
So you say nothing.
You keep your mouth shut.
(Thank god for cats)
Yes.
I like cats.
I could kill without thinking twice about it, if I saw them hurting a cat.
If I saw it with my eyes.
In real life.
I could kill.
And not be bothered by it .
At all .
(easy to say..)
No desire to do..
Still trying to build my dream pedalboard, why would I give up my freedom?
Forgive me.
Beyond wrong
dawn 