Life’s been busy lately and I have to say it’s a good cure from my deep rut of depression. I’ve only recently come to the realization that it might just be something I have to live with…depression….it’s a funny thing. When you have bone crushing depression – it’s hard to do the things you love doing in addition to the little things like exhibit good posture. That’s because your bones are powder and they’re what give us our semi solid form. You ever notice that poor folk on the street don’t get depressed as much. It’s because they’re too hungry and busy trying to survive to feel bad about themselves.
Despite profoundly understanding that perspective – Every day feels like the same. Jenni hides in her mancave writing Minecraft mods. I barely eek by, half addicted to substances that I’m not sure even exist – like Mixie Pop and Vixie Corn. I make like $600 a day at an easy job and have a soft life. Nobody really cares about me anymore which I tell myself doesn’t matter because when I want something I buy it for myself. If it’s something beyond the science of today or if it simply exists outside of the culture of Walmart – and I still want it…I peel off the depression, get up and I make it.
Invention gives me purpose. I used to embrace that but something about life getting really rough and tumultuous has made me lose sight of it. Being married to a barely functioning autistic that thinks she’s normal doesn’t help much either. She’s convinced at least. I love her but I miss her. The person I fell in love with only exists textually. Her verbal communication is not as able as her written words…we still can make it there within the confines of an IM window – but that feels silly when we’re sitting in the same room.
I recently made a baby lighting gun, running on nothing more than a tiny battery – I believe it’s a world first. It showed me that I still have the fire inside. Fate walks up to me and my campfire and pisses out the last ember of hope that ever capricious bitch. I get a burst of inspiration and do something great just to spite her. Next thing you know, I’m sobbing on the floor taking a rape shower drenched in piss again. At least it’s a roller coaster and not wood chipper.
That came out like ass so I’ll drop a weak 16 off the top of my head:
My mouth remorseless blowing verbal contortions
Confusion contusions your pine box is included
Step to this and you end up losing bruising
My flow a verbal incursion liquid intrusion
My homies roll in on four ponies
You and your cronies tripping phonies so blow me
First out is the MOB a hard hittin nigga from west N-C
Dome of chrome dropping more skulls than the catacombs of Rome
Next is the hero hailing from Vineland bringing the nonviolent silence
Inkblood on his hands Marc devastation linguistic evisceration
Now make yourself some preparation for The Letter N back again
Elaborating explicating swordpen dominating pixel art emanating.
The Kid participating calculating opening minds in a line
five ideas at time – live, love, learn, help others, create
Inventions by the crate because that’s me I’m the Chef
A bad motherfucker in two quantum states I make fate late for fun’s sake – BRAKE