The things you own end up owning you

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The things you own end up owning you.

The rise of consumerism is one of the reasons depression is so rife in the west and just about everywhere in the world. Consumerism is good for the capitalist system but not for the human spirit. This is because as human beings, we can’t help but to compare ourselves with others. It’s hardwired into our brains. Comparing is what creates meaning and it helps us classify things to see our progress in life. However it also creates anxiety because if I can’t get that German car my neighbor recently purchased then I feel worthless. The things you own end up owning you but a minimalistic life is not the answer either. Moderation is a big word in this context. Know yourself and what works for you and practice that. Don’t keep up with the Jones, keep up with your budget and responsibilities. I have simulated losing everything in my mind. This is a stoic exercise that helps me conquer fear, because if I am comfortable losing everything then I am free. Free to actualize, free to be what destiny intended.

Life is broader than material things. Life is emotions, perceptions and sensations. Life is awareness. Life is presence. Life is precious. Life is a miracle. Life is a beautiful process that keeps on getting better. Life is evolution and progression. Life is freedom. Life is creation. Life is love.

I realized a while back that earth was heaven. Heaven is not some Utopia that you get to, Heaven is already within. Heaven is what you create and God gave us complete control of our minds to create. Expression is creation and mind is expression. This is it. It doesn’t get better than this. You have the responsibility to create your own Heaven, simply because Heaven is a state of mind.

I’ve never really cared much for materials, I prefer creating experiences, they last longer. Still, I’ve always loved money. Money is power. Money buys a priceless commodity, time. But because money is external, it can be dangerous because of the imprints you attach to it. Money can repossess your soul, that’s if you identity with it and it’s difficult not to because society teaches us to do so.

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BDE

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BDE (Big Dick Energy)

The pressures of BDE, I hate it, it’s overrated. Sure it’s got its perks but there’s only so much you can do with 10 inches, it’s heavy machinery. Sure, I am a legend and a God but sometimes I wish I were average. I am a humble guy and I don’t need the spectacles. The pressures of BDE, I hate it, it’s overrated. She has a skinny vagina, she keeps on pushing me back, I am hurting her, the worst thing is that I can’t push it all in, I’ll rip her a part. I am a good guy, I don’t want to send her to the emergency room. The pressures of BDE, I hate it, it’s overrated. She’s reluctant to try out different positions, so I am limited to 3 at most and I still can’t go deeper than 6 inches. I am doing it for her, I am being considerate, It’s too big, it won’t fit. I am decent guy, I don’t want to rearrange her guts. They all want 9 inches until it’s time to play. It’s difficult to be a God. The pressures of BDE, what can I do? I’ll take it, God gave me this gift, I’ll do my best with it.

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9 inche pecker

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9 inche pecker

I could do with a 9 inche pecker,
Average ain’t enough.
I need an extra inche or 2.

It ain’t good for my ego.
She fits the whole thing in her mouth,
balls included,
still it doesn’t clog her throat.

I could do with a 9 inche pecker,
her hands are too large,
the contrast is embarrassing,
I need at least 25 cm.

I could do with a 9 inche pecker,
or at least an 8 and a half.

Average ain’t enough,
It doesn’t inspire any confidence.

I could do with a 9 inche pecker,
some men have 10,
How’s that fair?

I could do with a 9 inche pecker,
To be the talk of the town,
a girls fantasy,
a recurring nightmare.

I could do with a 9 inche pecker,
I can tell she’s faking,
some days she doesn’t moan
or groan.

I could do with a 9 inche pecker,
she has cute names for my member,
it doesn’t inspire fear,
has no respect whatsoever,
my stress levels are so high
I have problems getting it up.

I could do with a 9 inche pecker,
Average ain’t enough,
I need an extra inche or 2.

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Expose

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Expose

Sit back and let them expose who they are. Relax, they are careless. Accident prone niggas drawn to destructive tendencies. Never react, that’s a bitches move, respond to end the game. You let a nigga kick you once, then he’s going to kick you once, you let him kick you twice and he’s going to kick you twice, you let him kick you three times and he’s going to kick you three times. But if you break his legs, there’s not going to be any kicking. Backstabbers, they smile at my face and stick blades to my back. What? You think I didn’t know? You fugazi niggas are faker than silicon tits, stationary in your endeavors and lacking bounce in your steps. Sit back and let them expose who they are. They can’t help themselves, they are bound to trip. Words and actions like a banana peel. Motives scripted like a wrestling heel. You diss me, you diss yourself. Check the subtext, they laughing at you. We see all your insecurities. Sit back and let them expose who they are, they are impulsive like children on a sugar high. Give them the space to tire themselves out and the rope to hang themselves. You ain’t gotta intervene, these are the fools that shoot themselves on the foot. They are repressed, they will show you all of their shadows, just a bunch of Fredos. Sit back and let them expose who they are, detach from your emotions, refrain from being offended, just watch, listen and enjoy – it’s all a show for you. When the disrespect gets outta control, you gotta pull the trigger, we’ll dig the hole. No one is out of bound we kill made men cause “I don’t shine shoes no more”. At the end of the day we teach people how to treat us.

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Be With You

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Be with you

You really think I’d be with you?
Come on bitch,
Be serious.

Oh, you did?

Then you are ridiculous.
I’ve had pussy more delicious.
You just an option in a million,
you ain’t conspicuous.

You really think I’d be with you?
Trust me,
you ain’t all that.

So many demands but what do you have to offer? Professional dick sucker,
you think that’s gonna fill the coffer?

Bitch please,
crocodile tears are just salt and water.
21 with 3 kids are you a pimps daughter?

Get out of here with your tired ass.
You are a car on reserve that’s got no gas.

More of a sperm bank,
Tap and go,
Inviting loads like a washing machine door.

You really think I’d be with you?
Open with no screws.
“Where did all the good men go? “
They all fucked you
And now nobody wants you.

You really think I’d be with you?
Scent of desperation,
30 with 5 kids from different generations.

no job,
no prospects,
living with your mother.
What man wouldn’t want you?
Your baggage ain’t a bother.

You really think I’d be with you?
Come on bitch,
Be serious.

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Slide Show

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Slide show

Life passes by so fast. One day we chilling together having a blast and the next day we changing diapers, wrinkled up on a path to forever. We don’t know each other anymore, time has made us estranged despite the fact that we were bounded like a compound but now we just molecules co-existing on our own. What happened to the time? What happened to us? Damn, we just drifted apart like diverting roads, Vin Diesel on one side and Paul Walker on the other; I’ll tell you all about my adventures when I see you again. Life is a slide show and I recount the memories we had, captured by my memory and replayed by my imagination, I still feel your presence, hear your laugher and mesmerized by the moment that seems to flicker like a dying star in the heavens. What happened to our plans and dreams? We used to think we could live forever, have it all, but now I have become narrowed and fixed on one path leading to nowhere. My life has become a looped record stuck in the comfortable known. I’ve internalized the lyrics and they don’t mean much anymore, they don’t mean anything. The sparkle in my eyes is dead buried in rue. So many could haves, so many should haves. Life is a tyrant marshaling us to expectations that don’t matter. Life has spiraled out of control, I don’t know who I am anymore and maybe I never will. Life is a slide show, I should have done more, sacrificed more, loved more, relied more on my own wits, built myself, instead I am stuck in mediocristan living a life that’s not mine. So many mistakes and regrets, I should have treated you better, so many people I wish I could erase from my archives. I wish I could rewind time and stop time like a photograph, just to relive the moments one more time, moments you can’t relive like the first steps, the new car smell, the first piece of furniture and still being a virgin. Now things have become obligation, a ritual, my innocence has long waned and my wonder of the world diminished. Time has staled my ambitions. While you have soared, lived up to all expectations and achieved your wildest dreams. How can there be so much contrast in our lives when we both share the same 24 hours? What went wrong in my life? Is it the decisions, the choices? How do you play the game successfully, is there a cheat code? One to fill the void in my heart and grant me eternal happiness. There was a time when we were happy, where did all that go? It’s like life happened to me and I was a passenger, passive, hapless. Where did all the time go and why do I feel like a victim? Life is a slide show, one day you happy and filled with visions of the future and the next day you are old, grumpy and miserable awaiting transcendence.

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Alone

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Alone

What if you had to be alone with yourself all day, night and eternity, with no one to assist you in eliminating the crushing boredom that is debilitating like life itself, solitary confinement that engulfs like Japanese candles, just you and your thoughts, forever. Would you even have thoughts? What are thoughts exactly? Consciousness often bogels me. Reality sometimes confuses me, sometimes I don’t think I am alive and science tells me I am light. Who is this “me”? What is this “me”? What the fuck is going on? How are you understanding me? Oh! This is how you induce mental instability, isolation, it naws at you like a persistent ex. If all is one and one is singular, in essence bored and out of his mind then reality is in itself crazy. Nothing makes sense. I just exist, an extention of the universe that came into existence because of this one bang. I understand suicide, sometimes you just suffer for no apparent reason and you and you have the opportunity to end it all because you have consciousness, why not take the chance? Nothing matters in any case.

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Catching Up

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Catching up

Catching up with those who had a head start. Check the rearview,
I’m behind you,
Keep left,
I am coming right,
time to overtake your tired ass.

Greatness is in my blood,
I am a clock builder not a time teller.

Life is a marathon,
You tired yourself in the first mile,
Sprinting like a drag.

Foolish,
now your engine is totaled.

Potential wasted like a GTA bust,
Couldn’t handle three stars,
While I am thriving on five.

Fucken ridiculous.

Catching up with those who had a head start. Stock rising like the Vanguard while theirs declining like a single-mother’s,
different goals I suppose.

Nothing can stop me now.

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Supply

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Supply

You are so great. You are so beautiful. You are the love of my life. I can’t live without you. You are my world. You are my everything. You are my rock. You are my champion. I am proud to have you as my man. You are handsome. You are the best lover I have ever had in my life. You are my first. I never want to experience life without you. You make me happy. You are a good person. I would die without you. You are once in a lifetime. I am nothing without you. You bring me peace. You have great charisma. You are my home. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You changed my life. You are so intelligent. I am grateful to have you in my life. I appreciate you. I worship you. You are charming. I love you so much. Being in your presence is an honor. No one is like you. You are the best. You are special. You are the greatest of all time. You have a great sense of humor. You are the sexiest woman alive. You have a banging body. Have you been working out? I love your abs and defined biceps. You are perfection personified. You deserve your wealth. Any woman is lucky to have you. You have a great ass. I love your fashion sense. You have a pleasing personality. You are successful. You have a great smile. You are the smartest person I know. You are my best friend. You have a pure heart. You saved me. You are full of passion. You are the perfect gentleman. You are the hardest working person in the room. You are a classy lady. You are kind and considerate. You bring joy to my life. You have a great entrepreneurial drive. You go all night. You make me orgasm. You are a sex God!

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No longer fighting

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No longer fighting

When we no longer fighting, woah that’s bad. It sends out the message that none of this is worth it anymore. It is to resign. It’s whatever. Like “I don’t wanna do this anymore, do what you want, whatever makes you sleep at night, it’s your life”. When we no longer fighting, we are final like death, we are no longer emotionally invested, we just don’t care anymore. To no longer fight is to accept defeat and all its conditions, to not have the will to carry on. It is to have all your enthusiasm suspended. It is to reserve your energy and voice, to be mute like a mime and cease to do anything like a statue. When we no longer fighting, woah that’s bad. Do something, hit me, curse me, cry, plot my murder, do something, anything! Don’t turn your back on me. Don’t walk away from me. Maybe I’ve taken you for granted, maybe your presence has spoiled me, maybe I am entitled but I love you, please don’t go, I need you in my life. Say something, sell me dreams, tell me another lie. The silent treatment is the worst kind of torture. It makes you doubt yourself and your worth. It makes you paranoid, it unmasks your insecurities, it sheds a light on childhood repressions. The silent treatment can make you go crazy! Let’s fight, get dressed in our ninja outfits and duel with our samari swords till dawn. You can verbally abuse me and unpack old baggage. Morality is out of the picture, you can fight dirty and collaborate with Hitler and Putin. You can rake eyes and deliver lowblows. Let’s fight, all is fair and whatever happens, happens. Let’s clear the air and prepare life insurance documents, just in case. Stonewalling each other is not healthy, I’d rather have a broken heart and shattered reality. Fighting is good, it leads to something, it’s progress, something we can build on. When we no longer fighting, woah that’s bad.

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