self-help books make me nauseous,
but that might also be because
i don’t know how to help myself,
without tearing things down first,
though it’s not as destructive as it sounds,
since it’s mostly me in a dark room
on my laptop writing mean things to strangers
half-way across the world, or maybe down the street,
i don’t know,
in the glow a neutral blue light burning
my corneas out of their socket
i had the opportunity
to sit down with titan
and ask him to stop eating his kids,
to which he said,
'alright, but only because i'm full',
which made me realize,
that even though i don't plan on ever having kids,
i'd at least be better at raising them
than a god
i ate paint chips on the side of the road,
while waiting for a ride,
i didn’t know who would come
down that road,
since i had been walking down it alone
for quite some time,
occasionally scratching off paint chips
from the asphalt to keep myself going
Fred Aiken Writing 