Angel With The Robotic Arms

Shitty Fact #2,847,942: I’m not the only unique starfish in the sea; there are many people who want to be a professional writer, a famous author. And we each think we’re the special one. We each think we’re the prettiest fucking raindrop gracing the earth with our presence. Doesn’t matter. We all fall into the same ocean. We all drown with each other. I’m not unique, creative, or the next Great American Author. I’m just another desperate bipolar schizophrenic with a pen.

Unrelated but related side-note: I finished a short story for NaNoWriMo. I was pretty excited when I started it, but by the end I realized it’s a piece of shit. And not because it hasn’t been edited. It’s just plain shit….It is an odd, out-of-body experience to read your own work and see it for what it truly is…

#woeisme #idon’tcarethati’mwhining #nowiwanttowatchmetropolisforsomereason #thisisnothowyouusehashtags

Angel with the Robotic Arms
JCD Kerwin

we’re all just broken ‘bots
that walk
in sad, grey lines,
in time
with each other.
but with each new tick
and metallic tock
of the Doomsday Clock,
we’re pulled off shelves
and bought,
from second-hand
shops. we’ve got
no regrets except
that we gave up on ourselves
long before this world.

(Dec. 2014)

Why I Hate Tying My Shoelaces

JCD Kerwin

I want to twirl glow sticks
around my fingers and
dance all night
like a burning, shooting star…

And maybe I want
to draw on brick walls
with crayons
like I still see the world
covered in white paper.

Maybe I want
to play make-believe games,
laugh when I drink too much, and
have hangovers in meetings.

Maybe I want
to get a bunch of tats
because then I’d finally look
like what I feel inside.

Maybe I want
to chase down my dreams
for a few more turns
‘round the clock,
and not worry
where my next meal is coming from.

Because maybe I just
don’t give a damn about falling
when I try to fly.

Dec. 2012