⸘jason alan‽
Bio
:::WARNING:::
i am only responsible for what i say,
not for what you understand.
you may learn to be charmed by my [secret‽] discontent,
or you may not.
Achievements (1)
Stories (235)
Filter by community
the answer is all in the strawberry rhubarb
are you operating cyclically, or is the modus operandi sickle-shaped, serrated in the most nascent sense? maybe the independence we fight and die for, since long before defining what a fight is, is the real thing that's killing us; endless conflict with knowing how irrelevant we are and trying that much harder to prove we are worthy while not getting too bogged down in the details; the devil actually lives and thrives in the lack of them. i want my interest stimulated, so tell me what kind of pi your favorite is? be polarizing and be as honest as you can about your intentions; embrace the possibilities in the equality of conflict rather than the history written by whom will over-power the other. we can both be right AND happy if we agree to disagree about how we're mutually disagreeable; we are together- or have i died and come back living in a Dyson? i'm allegedly omnipotent and can make you believe you've lived in Stockholm your whole life; held responsible without being allowed authority or good-faith. but i am self-aware; i'm self-defined; i am self-fulfilling; and last but not least i am excessively, equally as self-destructive. but to me there is a purpose and therefore some comfort derived from conflict and the resolution therein.
By ⸘jason alan‽3 years ago in Poets
Life Needs Death by Definition, And Nothing Really Matters; But Cookies Help Me Be More Okay with Both
Punctuate the day riding up one side of life and down the next, and really that's cause e=MC^2 and no variable equates to more that guerrilla-performance tactics. don't relinquish command, a captive audience just wouldn't survive in the wild- those of us who were raised by wolves are sure of what it feels like more than what it means. it's evermore a work in delayed progress of tomorrows and yesterdays; the beWILDered and domesticated; the reality of it and the liberties taken... the only thing i could simplify it to was something about an unstoppable force and an immovable object working in tandem to counteract the other's effectiveness. From right there and now, it's not unreasonable to reach to interpret that when left here where, even as it were, it was long lost to then be found. Listen- could you heard me, and do you still follow? The correct answer is subject to debate and the peer-review process of academics and of the law but does anybody else wonder if it's because we don't ask the right questions, or have we forever complicated the lowest common denominator to a fraction of the original simplicity!? Some things are indeed just that plain, and the fear of novelty has long since passed; the dead weight of emotions that were never mine to claim was all i needed to lose to make things seem less of a life-or-death arrangement. To whom it may concern- return to sender- from back to front while maintaining an orderly line of contesting inequalities until their breaking points, and if i can't even remember what i lost then is it really gone? and so then should it not also be back by now? or is that a paradox we just don't talk about? screaming unmentionables at each other's most defined vulnerabilities is my favorite kind of foreplay; keeps me wondering if it's love or sex we have together; and adds to the mystery of where i am accounted for on this scale. i weighed in, then i stepped down no longer wanting to or needing this to be anything to win or bust.
By ⸘jason alan‽3 years ago in Poets
Last Impressions
at long last, i can tell you what the feeling i have for you have come to: you're just a liar and a second-rate conman. you don't want anyone to know that you only exist in the facade of personalities you keep around but when you look in the mirror you a mouse of a man. so GOOD RIDDANCE to you and your kind of mean it. see right through you don't see yourself/right when your revisions are served more familiar. unhanded prime estate exchanged for the last amount of integrity any of us had, souled-out. don't give up giving in, formed with taken sub-space. time it high enough to miss the mark. we become close, intimate even; but ho very dare you look at me like you know me. i wish you could hurt me like it's my first time all over again. make it look like you're making an effort; try in the future to not forget to get lost. In nature, the house always wins in a draw so NEVER turn your back on crazy or say never. Never land from there and back again; it's not Oz or Kansas. Focus only on fabulous distractions, if possible, but anything that's not me will do, but don't dare tell me about the world the way it sees you or about your point of view. Either short-sighted or a tall drink of red flags and cautionary tales. You're less of a hot mess now than you are a raging inferno. Teach yourself at home to lessen public involuntary involvement. Which is more or less convinced of collusion? Credit unclaimed, we just share the moment. Know what nobody says is the truth. My last impressions of you are the best ones.
By ⸘jason alan‽4 years ago in Poets
question everything
question everything you're told; be especially critical of the things you tell yourself. nothing is ever indisputable; and if it is, then it's a lie worn as plain as the smile on your face as if that's the long and short story. is it hypocrisy or ignorance that justifies the double-standard? or is the point to not have one because that's how you reconcile it with yourself? using omissions and empty promises to fill in the gaps. you can best be described as a negatively emotion, calorically; or in other words, you're the celery of love cause it takes more to process you than you'll ever offer back. i loved your satire performance on contemporary mating rituals until i saw in you where the irony is really presented.
By ⸘jason alan‽4 years ago in Poets
knowledge is power
i cannot, will not be defined by pre-existing ideas to which i do not subscribe so i am left unread, inherent- i would hope the same of the few Humen which i am fortunate enough to have acquainted with. i exist and profit in the massless disenfranchisementality presented in stereo, the volume of which is yet inaudible. superphonic, yet kindly rewound and so i play it again: equality or nothing- anything less demands a paradox to reconcile with nine out of ten nobodies agreeing they were not even present for evidence or deliberation . form a disorderly dotted line, integrated with unwholesome numbers. on a scale from one to ten, the average becomes numbless. here's to the hope that this connects you with the idea of who i once thought i ought to be perceived as in nostalgianeric musings. but that was an other-world-adjascent crisis- which i gayly attempted to relinquish with mundanacious carnality in exchange for the enlightenment with mass hyesterics in the repetitious, tyradical News tricyclopedia; power wheels as alternate adult transport and inappropriate appropriation; power rangers for congress, Zordon for president... this is clearly a lackluster grasp at generational relevance- power wielded without knowledge and worthy of recourse, but a knowledgeable spirit is more powerful than brute force and ignorance.
By ⸘jason alan‽4 years ago in Poets
the hunter; the hunted; the hunt. Content Warning.
from between my lips, the great white-lies are feeding on anything they can sink their teeth into. jagged fangs ready for action as the frenzied schools amass in the shallows, and the vast depths of consciousness are left vacated as i myself become one with the predator, the prey, and the waves of thought washing over my body. unintelligible motions seeking to consume, seeking to escape, seeking to prove an eagerness and ability to exist.
By ⸘jason alan‽4 years ago in Poets
sustainable man-griculture
pay no mind to the man behind the keyboard, but heed his words. the incarnation is and will forever be ever-changing. even vegans eat living, sentient lifeforms without remorse. today maybe me, maybe you. and, if it serves the purpose, neither of us in our own time- that's what posterity is for, i'm told- it gives a chance to mean something long after the present we've been gifted has turned to fertilizer many times past. in this way i am renewable; susatainable man-griculture; reuseable, as Donner said, "until there is nobody left to consume." is it such an unhinged idea to pose that life begets death begets life; one without the other could not fully be itself. this life is prolonged longer and longerer by eating other living things, but the soul is immortal and if you dare taste what i am truly made of, be ready for infinty.
By ⸘jason alan‽4 years ago in Poets
