poetry/prose by Calvero.
you can blossom in shit if you want to


The world laughs
at me
all the time
but that’s okay.

The world goes,
    “A-hahahahahahahahahahaha!”
when they see me
because they don’t like
the way I act
or the way I dress
or the way I look
or the way I dream
or the way I write
or the way I pick my nose
in public
and so they laugh
at me

    but like I said

it’s cool.

The world laughs
at me
and then I catch
their laughter
    (because I’m really good
    at catching shit)
and then I eat
their laughter
    (because I’m even better
    at eating shit
    than I am at catching
    shit. For reals.)
and then eating their laughter
makes me grow
big
and strong
and muscular
and I look like Arnold
Schwarzenegger from the movie
“Commando”
and then I walk around
telling everyone,

    “I eat Green Berets
for breakfast…”

except no one
ever gets it
so then they all
just look at me
weird
and laugh at me
even more

    but like I said

it’s cool
because I’m strong
as fuck.

Like yesterday
I picked up a minivan
and then I balanced it
on my pointer finger
and then I spun
the mini-van around
on my finger
with my other hand
like a Harlem Globetrotter
spinning a basketball
on his finger.

It was pretty
cool.

    Not gonna
lie…

No one saw me
do it.

No one saw me
spinning the minivan
on my pointer finger
like a Harlem Globetrotter
but that’s okay
because I saw me
do it,

because I know
I can
do it,

because I know
most of    them
can’t do it,

because I know
most of    them
will never learn
how to do it

and that’s what really
makes me feel
so strong
and Arnold-like.

I admit
it’s hard
though.

I admit
it’s fuckin’ exhausting
picking up minivans
and spinning them
on your finger
in a Harlem Globetrotter’esque
style
because minivans
are heavy.

I admit
I think about suicide
a lot of the time
and that the thought
is frequently buzzing around
inside my head
like a trapped fly
and the trapped fly’s buzzing
is really loud
because it’s a singular,
reoccurring, contained thought
isolated inside
the small space
of my head

but you can blossom
in shit
if you want to.

Two months ago
an 8 foot monster
made entirely of glue
walked over to me
and was like,
    “AGHHHHHHHH!!!!
        Glue monster
        ANGRYYYYYY!!!!!
and then he just jerked off
all over me
and doused me
in glue-sperm
for no reason
at all
and now I’m stuck.

    Now I’m stuck
in a basement,
in a town,
in a place,
in a world
that’s laughing
at me
and that’s trying
to break my heart
and that’s trying
to drag me under
with the rest of them
and it sucks major ass
but it’s okay
because you can blossom
in shit
if you want to.

I hate people
but I believe
in mankind
overall.

I believe
the few good hearts
in this world
outweigh
the millions and millions
of shitty-ass,
selfish ones.

The bottom feeders,
the misfits,
the wasted,
the hurt,
the forgotten,
the never-knowns,
the unloved,
the unusual,
the rejects,
the losers,
the retarded,
the minimum wage
super heroes,

    we are the ones
in sync
with the world.

    We are the ones
who see it
for what it is
and go with it
and ride it like a carousel
and scream,
    “WEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”
as we ride it
while everyone else
runs against
the world’s natural
progression.

So many people
run against the rotation
of this spinning planet
like they’re on
a treadmill
    and sure they look all fit
    and trim
    and strong and shit
    because they’re constantly
    running and exercising
but they’re strong
in all the wrong
ways,

in all the unimportant
ways,

in all the ways
that don’t fuckin’
matter.

The world
laughs at me
and mocks me
and there’s no place
on this planet
and in this world
for someone
like me
(they’ve made sure
of that)

and there’s no place
on this planet
and in this world
for someone
like you    either

so we have to
create our own
places.

We have to build
cool, kick-ass
tree houses
and pillow forts
inside our hearts
and then just fuckin’
chill in there
and wait
and read books
and whack off
to bondage porn
    (or whatever
    you’re into… fuckin’ whatever)
and hold onto
ourselves
until we find
an easier way
to live,

a less painful way
to fall
down the stairs,

an easier way
to find
one another.

You can blossom
in shit
if you want to.

Yesterday
I wanted to die
and I held the door
for an old lady
leaving McDonald’s
and I smiled at her
as I held the door
for her
and then she smiled back
at me
    and then
        because of that
later on
when my inner demons
called me on my cell
and were like,

    “Yo,
we still on
to play duck, duck, goose
later tonight, mother fucker?
    We’ll bring
the bean dip
and Tostitos!”

I was able
to be like,

    “Nah,
ya know what?
    I’m good tonight,
guys.
    Peace!”

and then I hung up
on them.

You can blossom
in shit
if you want to.

You can blossom
in shit
if you want to.

You can blossom
in gross green apple-splatter-diarrhea-shits
if you want to.

    Blossom,
mother fucker.

Blossom… 



© Calvero 2013

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