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MY BEARD BLOG

I want a dachshund just so I can buy those crappily designed t-shirts at the beach stores that say “I have a ten pound wiener” and “the grass is greener under my wiener”.

Posted: 1 day ago

Knock knock!

*Me and my gf are talking about hipbones and joints*
Me: I think this is the femur
Gf: No that’s still part of your hip right there
Me: Oh okay. I’m an artist, I should know this. Pelvises aren’t my specialty.
Gf: *seductive smirk* they aren’t?
Me: 😶😏

I just need a way out.

An escape from this crippled system.

This twisted playground that is nothing but work.

I need to enjoy the trees, find the humming of the bees.

Fuck these classes that are as good as a chocolate coin.

They seem so valuable so essential to society that uses them as currency.

Only to leave us with a melting mess of worthless shit.

We try to lick up the candy, claiming it’s sweet, it’s all fun.

But we’re just bloated with a sustenance that has not quenched our knowledge nor showed us the real world.

We are sheep herded into fence of social standings.

We cut out wrists and pop our pills to deal, to feel, to feel like we mean something to a classroom full of hotheads and creeps. 

We NEED to social ladder to be a success in high school to find that it leads to a ledge, not important, not memorable, just a ledge full of praise

Praise from the guy with the nice hair, from the girl with the nice clothes.

But they are children. At least that’s how they label us.

TEENAGER is a fucking MADE UP word, for a made up world. 

We take jobs, we buckle under stress, we dress to impress, we take lessons from the elders to whom we address our attention and they flex an agenda and we listen and pretend that they care more than us when when really they trust in a PowerPoint. A fucking presentation that they haven’t arranged themselves. 

Yes I know, they are a few gems out there, few ones that do care, to attack all that’s not fair. But even they have to teach their class under oppression of the ruling higher elders that have no common sense that just cater to the masses, the swarm of unruly and stupid and senseless.

It’s pretentious.

The time I felt most free: one the summer I got two weeks to create. With no schedule in mind, with no trade for a dime. I created and thought, and the reason I fought through the boredom and pain of the coming school age was ‘cause I had no more wage to pay. No more obligations or schedules, no more clocks or pendulums, I had the freedom of loneliness the closeness of holiness, the milk of a untainted breast of creativeness.

It created us.

Art in a form has created a storm that will rain down on all of us, made of thoughts of our fallen-ness to weld and to wrought in us a sense of openminded-ness to be better! We need to lows to climb high, death to feel alive!

I’m off topic.

I came here to say, in no certain rhyme or way, just a flow of off beats: I need the woods. I need my girl by my side to keep me down off my pride and to let me just hide. From a system. A system we’ve made to study brain waves and make roads that are paved to future of failure that we all have to travel. My brother he did it, yet he still found a way to escape to the wilderness and find the real world.

The real world isn’t taught to us in schools, instead it makes us all fools. “You’re learning how to learn”, What the fuck does that even mean? You mean the numbers that determine the only way we’ll succeed are just a intro to the knowledge we need? Just a seed for a tree? A seed that is has been growing for years, 13 plus, and has survived all the torments of storms and drought is still not an adult yet? That boggles my mind. Yet I follow in time, cause there’s no other drum. No other beat that can speak because our system is weak. Yet it has all the power.

I guess I’ll just go sit in the shower.