we’re all so fucking busy, and I just wanna die. the words don’t visit anymore, strangers knocking on my door begging for what I don’t have - a door - fuck it - i put on some Reggae, some Phenomden. I’m still an immigrant, never felt the slap of the welcome X Pat, the unrighteous judgments on Origins, Darwin might have something to say about that - fitting in… Evolution is against me, with the state, in conspiracy. My skin is red, too red to fit in here. My eyes are green, too green to slip in here. Everyone’s trying to hustle, to stay alive, the cops with their bustle, wasps on the hive, worst thing I ever did was open my heart to see the suffering and sadness, without enough mind to do something about it. The indignity is not poverty, but the absent disdain for impoverished existence. My failure has always been to want more, when I knew nothing was everything: zero _is_ infinity. Living is Suicide.