No Matter What (Portable A.H.K Reworked old piece draft)

You work your ass off for ten years

and then you’re forced to accept Watts.

So you do

and then,

they come for you.


You try to do the right thing,

and then

they come for you.


You burn your eyes with words until you’re nothing,

and that’s when they come for you.


You stay up and lose yourself

and then

you’re ageing within the last years of your youth

You pull all-nighters four nights a week

You write millions of perfect words,

and they never read anything,

but one mistake.


They talk sarcastically to you,

as if you don’t hear them.


You don’t care,

but you live for something,

or so you’ve decided,

the world has decided,

what you do.


You will either fail or accept that there is no failure, 

which is both true and not true,

that is,

if you want to be happy in America,

because without money you’re just an intelligent orphan spawned by experimental marketing.


Those that destroyed their own profession try to tell you how to keep it alive,

and you try to hold back your words that knife through your mind,

a mind that broke free from the syndrome but now asks to plug back in,

for health reasons.


They ask you to conform,

they cheer for you even when they know it’s too late.


You try to go back,

but still,

they come for you. 


You fight for the counterculture and the people in your family,

for the conservative and the religious 

and the not,

for the liberals and the radicals,

for every color of skin and political ideology;

you fight for nature

and you fight for the publishers

and the farmers,

for the animals,

the elders and

above all else,

for peace,

for the human,

and still,

they come for you.


The old gave up the will to teach,

they want to be young forever,

and then they blame the young for trying,

as if they’re your parents,

when they weren’t even parents

to their own children.


They never hold the door for you,

and even when you help them,

they still come for you.


They don’t even try to understand you.

They already forgot about the recession

and the college graduates


still underemployed.

They talk 

all day.

You are their failure or their blind eye,

but really to them

none of this matters.

It’s a game,

makes them feel awkward when it’s only about life,

and they never ask a question.  

They never say anything at all.

It’s all nonsense.

It’s all the same.

You are born,

and then,

they come for you. 



What happened to the writers that had a voice, for something?


So many critics that don’t have a clue

about writing and the world,

two things they’ve already burned and sucked dry.


Even when it’s burning,


they still come for you. 


You need sleep.

You write these words of anger.

You could delete.

You should.

You won’t.

You can’t.

Not now.


And you could…

You could shut up,

like they want,

but why?

When regardless of what you say,

they will still come for you,


you’re dead.


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2 thoughts on “No Matter What (Portable A.H.K Reworked old piece draft)

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