if you ever have the time,
read chuck palahniuk.
in the days when time langors on
and the humidity sets in,
dulling your senses
as everything turns into a muddy haze of
never ending clockwork.
machinery, running slick
on a gear

read it. read.
Guts, Rant, Choke.
in a Lullaby of self deception,
in dreams,  scribbled across your diary.
be glad. that you don't have to do those things (yet)
to feel alive. rejoice, in a somewhat perverse happiness
nose in the air, in a certain relief
that it's enough, to read, about these horrors
to feel alive.

little dashes of nihlism,
kept behind the bars of black and white
prints, the pristine, straight lines
that keep the dystopia away, just far enough.
at your fingertips.
uncomfortable enough to shock,
but caged within the paperbacks that hold them off at bay.

it's the same feeling, the paunchy old fogeys feel
as they knock on the glass cages
of cobras, rattlesnakes and other great predators of the wild.
the false sense of power, as they try their hand
truimphing against nature.

the self-satisfation as their kid looks up, amazed
that's my dad. invincible.

it makes you feel alive,
wanted, needed, important.
even if just for a split second.
of conceit.

#thelittlethingsinlifethatmakesyoufeelalive.

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