The Educated Primate (Short Story-Draft)

I walked into the poorly lit kitchen with my eyes mostly closed. I’d stayed up all night reading about some philosophy by some philosopher and it was all in vain. I thought this year I could be smart. This year I could know things that smart people know, but the only thing I know is that I am an idiot. Seriously, a full blown dunce, minus the cap and social rejection. I guess I must be pretty smart now.

I poured some sugary cereal into some china bowl mixing it with some brand of dairy-free milk and started to laugh. I thought about what I’d read about all of the things I’d heard in my life and I just laughed. I wondered if I was the only dunce, if everything went over my head, or if everything went over the giant idiotic head of society. If society was the biggest idiot of all, or maybe we were all just animals that started to think we looked good in hats.

I tried to write some essay for some class about some philosophers who wrote some philosophy that I read the night before. I munched on some sugary cereal and I cried. I wasn’t crying because I was sad. It was one of those really confusing overwhelming cries that you cry when you get into a fight with someone that you really loved, someone who usually understands you but refuses to at that moment. I cried because I couldn’t write the essay, I must be so dumb, everyone else can write the essay but I couldn’t. I couldn’t remember a single thing of importance. A single thing. I understood what Plato was saying about Democracy but it was only a rough idea, I couldn’t quote him or anything.

I looked for the quote and then shut off my computer because I wasn’t going to live my life quoting other people, not purposely anyway. I washed some china bowl with some dish soap and walked up some stairs to get ready.

I put on some foundation and thought of the Greeks, I put on some mascara and thought of Buddhists, finally I put on some rouge and thought of the Romantics. I thought so much that my brain turned to mush and I died. I’m not kidding. I felt my soul leave my body and she looked so pretty. She looked at me as the sun turned into the moon but the time hadn’t changed a bit. She looked at the moon and while she was distracted, my body jolted to life and pulled her in. My soul tried to resist, she tried to jump into the moon, but my body wanted her back, and so she pulled her in. We both trudged forward to the washroom, and I thought we looked ugly.

I took a shower and tried not to ruin my makeup. It was a really silly thing to do and yet I did it every morning. I always got too excited and sprayed the warm water all over my face. I washed off most of what I’d created but left bits  to melt off of the skyline. I wiped my face with some towel and looked down at it, the visage smiled back in pristine condition but the visage in the mirror looked smudged and strange. The three of us sat together, we talked about the starving children and the holes in the ozone layers that all the polar bears were falling through.

We talked and talked until the whole day had gone by and it was that time, but tomorrow; today. I broke the mirror and cut the towel with the shards because I started to think that I was ready to go to school. I packed my bag. Grabbed some pencils that were once trees, some grapes that were still fruit, and some water bottles that would cellophane wrap the Earth one day.

I put my backpack over my shoulder and felt the entire biosphere resting there like Christians felt the Devil beneath their feet wherever their holy Darwinian limbs would take them. I lit it all on fire and ran away from the neighbors who were doing the same. We’d meet each other at 3 AM in an empty lecture hall, 36 hours too late, like the smartest apes that ever did limp.


Thank You!!!!!!

It’s been a while since I wrote a proper post on this blog. This isn’t to say that I see my poetry as an improper post or anything of the sort. What I mean is, I haven’t written in a diary like way for quite some time.

This can, like most other things in my life, be blamed on my fear of failure (or parents depending on how angsty I feel that particular day.) This blog has grown, not all that much, but way more than I thought possible for someone like me.

I have such a hard time getting one person to listen to my quiet voice, let alone 12 people. I feel like the next thing I write has to be perfect and like everything else in life, it will never be. I will most likely say something dumb or spell something wrong or use terrible grammar (that wasn’t even on purpose.) However, am I always going to be so afraid to mess up that I will stop speaking all together? God, I hope not, because how can I tell all of you lovely folk about the cute guy that started visiting me at my job, or the wisdom’s of a retired regular, or about the latest epiphany I have had?

In a weird way, this is a thank you post as well as a promise post. Thank you to the people who have chosen to join me on my journey in life as I chronicle in rhyme or otherwise, as well as, I promise that I will write to you all more.

-Oh, and, yes! I do like my run on sentences!


Pretty Boys, Pretty Girls

Mum used to sit in front of a mirror
She’d insult her body, mind and face
Until she had 3 kids to raise
So I took her dusty mirror
I took her old place
Brown girls can’t be pretty
Some brown girls are
But not me
My eyes are strangly fixed
My lips are comically uneven
And my chin is like a too-long-triangle
Upside down
I’m like a collage
Of all the broken pictures
Put together
Like a bad, bad joke
Everyone must see it
Like a damned broadway show
Get your tickets now
Watch this terrible joke
But I’ve learned
I’ve discerned
I’ve turned
Away from dirty mirrors
Or returned
Dirty mirrors
Or obscured
Dirty mirrors
With thoughts shaped like slabs of steel
Forcing their waves
Through each fibre of glass
Until there’s nothing left to marvel at
Because what the hell is the point?
To hold your shoulders back
Let them slack
To stand on your good side
All of you
Is your good side
Just a bunch of lines and curves
That allow you to feel the earth
For just a moment
Just a moment


I wrote this a couple of weeks ago and found it in my notes right as I needed to read it.

Love Song

You’ve got a funhouse mirror
In place of a brain
You can’t keep up with your thoughts
They’re all insane

You’re like electricity
And fire
And burnouts
And guns

You like me
Because I don’t mind
You aren’t perfect
Because I like people
When they aren’t working
And you are never working

You’re every broken toy, dream, or ambition
You’re falls to death
That keep falling

You’re storms and hurricanes
With pretty white girl names
But your plight is not the same
Ropes for hands that wandered
Than stayed

Tongue tied twisted tamed
But tongues tied twisted
Quickly flame
And right before you
You’re enflamd
What’s it like to watch chaos
From within?

All you’ve ever wanted
Was to be a love song
This was the best I could do.

An Untitled Poem About Severe Mental Illness

The gaps in your brain

Have always been

The pains in my chest

They’ve always been

My misguidance


My tormentor

How selfish I was

This pain was never mine

It always belonged to you


Who seek refuge where all the rest do

You, only

Who is greeted by Lucifer


Who I’d hoped would sing lullabies

You, only

Who chants them chilled and haunted


Who sees wiring as her failure

You, only

Who was meant to mourn the loss of


(I’m sorry

Loving you

Is impossible)