My mouth is a carwash

When you’re brushing your teeth, do you imagine your teeth are cars in a car wash?

Because I do.

I imagine people sat in the cars rolling their eyes when they think the car wash is over… But wait! Nope, it’s not finished. It compels me to do a very thorough clean because the thought of them rolling their eyes as more froth comes upon them amuses me.

And then I imagine them breathing a sigh of relief and thinking, “It’s finally over!” and ready to put their engines back on. But they see the lights that tell them when they can leave still haven’t changed from red. So they stare at the light, “Come on!” Their knuckles going white with impatience. But then they get another assault with mouthwash now, a gargle and then the rinse after.

In the end, they have really pristine cars. But the drivers are initially too pissed off at the amount of time it takes as they know they pressed the button that said, “QUICK WASH,” which is cheaper than the deluxe wash. And they drive away wondering what the luxurious wash must consist of if the one they’ve just been through was the quick one!


I’m not typical
certainly not biblical
though my name suggests miracles
I like to think my faults are forgivable
But that only seems to make my rage more formidable
I am hardly statistical
I can find myself in numbers
Maybe I am mythical
The pinnacle of invisible
My evidence not admissible
I was born cynical
Or, difficult?
Sometimes my thoughts are unthinkable
I’m always at the periphery of transitional
Lost in the middle…

I, The consumer



“It’s a happy pursuit, the inscription of oneself” – Dr Haggard from Dr Haggard’s disease by Patrick Mcgrath 

When I hear humans describe ‘consumerism’, I imagine nostrils flaring as things get sucked as they inhale and consume.

Such an ugly word Consumerism. Yet I guess it’s an appropriate term. The idea of being a ‘consumer’ consumes me with repulsion.

I picture plastic bottles being squeezed in sync with a human sigh of desperation for more.

I went through a phase where I’d listen to podcasts about topics that essentially amounted to the politics of consumerism and ‘consumerist’ rights. I always felt a twinge of discomfort when I heard them say the words, “We the consumers”, or “Our consumerist rights” because all that played in my imagination was a reel where peoples nostrils opened up and consumed without thought.

The irony is that by listening to a podcast about these things, I was consuming media they produced and so my own nostrils were doing the same thing.

And that is what repulses me the most in the end, that no matter how much I hate the idea, I am a consumer! What I’ve often found ironic about people like myself who shit on the idea of so-called ‘consumerism’ is that we’re often just as much a consumer as everyone else. You see it behind these peoples back on their youtube videos while they talk about the ills of society and this wretched world of the constant need for ‘goods’.Yet behind them, they’ll have a mess of nonsense stuff that comes to no use whatsoever other than for aesthetic purposes.
But perhaps I’m expecting too much on the part of people who see the ills of this world while also taking part in it.

It’s something I find myself doing a lot when on the youtubes. I find it absolutely fascinating to see the interior of the room they’re filming in, the objects they have on their shelves and the things they have hung on their walls. Some of them like to make it appear as if they just simply put their camera on and roll with it, but I suspect even they take some care as to what can be seen in the background.

To some extent, i guess I idealise the idea of merely leaving society and going off-grid, living in a log cabin and ultimately having that self-sufficiency to survive on one’s own without help.
Unfortunately, I’m not deluded enough to believe I could manage this feat. The woods aren’t wheelchair friendly for one, or very friendly to anyone who uses walking aids for that matter, not to mention all the medication I need just to be alive.

I guess I am just another consumer after all.


You took up so much volume in my head
Your every word, your every way
The way your nostrils flare
At everyday happenings
As if they’re the most disgusting
Offensive things
People just simply existing
In the same time frame as you
Have you reeling
I know your laugh is that of smugness
Believing you’re more intelligent than the rest of us
that you’re in the know
And we’re just clueless

And I gave you way too much time
Though you wouldn’t know
Because you never cared to notice
The story behind anyone else’s eyes
Back and forth between anger and sympathy
Driving myself insane
At the thought that maybe
You just needed someone to comfort you
But alas I sit here today
Coming to the conclusion
You enjoy the drama you create
And though I don’t wish anything bad
To be your fate
I’m letting you go
I’m saying any apology will be too late
I’m saying I no longer care enough
To drive myself insane.
I’m saying that it’s enough
For you, I have no more space inside my head.

Boulervard Of Broken Dreams

Writers block. Can’t write anything today. 19th day national poetry month

At first I was inundated
With feelings familiar
To a once rampant heart beat
That faded into the distance
One frosty night on a darkened street
Where tears and ex lovers came to meet

The feeling to which I’d been acquainted with
Once before those many moons ago
I feel it beating but I swore to never let myself go
Not that way
Not again

And so I left her
In room 13
At The boulevard of broken dreams

(c) 2015

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