Ben Bonkoske

All I’ve done doesn’t amount to much physically. 1.3 pounds (or inches) of paper  I think, but appearances aren’t everything. It’s all online nowadays. I hate this day in age. I commend anyone who can stay away from online gratification in all ways. Socially. Sexually. It’s all the same. Dopamine. I’m highly addicted to it but play it off like I’m just a used car dealer. God, how the boundaries were dissolved before 9 o’clock this morning. Fixing a fence, an unspoken hatred was uttered and I lost all respect for my acquaintance. I still acted like I liked him, and played along platonically. There are bad people of all races, he basically said, but you don’t need to be explicit about what you think of them or anyone for that matter. It is better to pretend to like everything, especially when you don’t amount to much anyway. I’m not one to care so much about social edict but justice is the same in all languages. I’m sore as hell, and my bones are breaking down for not enough calcium. I urked any movement after I snuck back into bed this afternoon. A poor rich man. Salad days are gone. Ode to Viceroy. I crumpled up the last smoke I’ll ever toke I hope. I don’t have a great structure to stand on. I’m like a wind-up clock that spins out of control and has a vampire for its owner. Sunlight betrays me, and I’d burrow deep into the cave of summer hibernation. No use trying, so I idly surrender to a better life, even if I’m not much of a sunshine to be around. At least I’m happy on the inside, which isn’t much but is enough. But on and on it goes and I am just one of the millions who don’t digest anything but crap and act like they’ve never sat on the toilet before and thought to themselves how disgusting their anatomy is. I break digital mirrors. A beautiful soul who is probably in trouble, that’s me. That’s all I’ll ever be. When I let my mind flow it usually goes somewhere discouraging, but lately, I haven’t had the time to do any thinking. My brain is too congested with new goals, smothered by smokey the bear. What is worst is when your best isn’t efficiently effective to cut the pie. My body hasn’t ached in this way since I hiked the Appalachian Trail so at least you know what I mean when I say, It is better than anything, to forgive yourself for not pitying itself.