I try to remember but it all just blends together.
It’s kinda hard to tell exactly where
the minute hand crosses from afar.

But was I happy?
(Yea, sure. I remember it. Splendidly)

No. Really.
(I don’t know. If I could answer. Truthfully)

But was it worth it?
(I think I’m. Too scared. Of wasting time.
Oh, god. Am I wasting it? Right now?)

Better plan,
to make the most of it.

Better plan,
to plan better in the future

Better plan,
hold off longer,
defer your own reward.

Better plan,
to live better later.

What do you remember?
(Not much. Honestly.)

But were you happy?
(I said “I don’t know,” truthfully.)

If you don’t remember
does it matter?
(I’m seriously unsure.)

What’s in the future?
(Hopefully, happiness.
Currently, hope.)

What’s the point?
(What you mean?)

There’s a future’s future.
-j.maxwell

I never considered myself much of a painter
but I won an art contest once.
Catholic Daughters. 3rd grade.
Theme was “God’s power.”
I drew a watercolor landscape
of mountains. Mountains that I,
growing up in Louisiana,
had never really seen,
but I wanted to.
Still, I sucked at drawing.
Never learned to hold a pencil right.
I quit art by 5th grade.

When I was 15,
I went to Colorado.
I mountain biked.
The mountain was just an obstacle,
an annoyance.
Everyone else enjoyed it,
but the trail was 5 miles too long
and not what I signed up for.
The obligations of elevated ground
didn’t seem worth the effort.

A few summers ago,
I went to the Ozarks to camp.
My friend slipped and fell 70 feet.
I still remember his teeth
rearranged in his mouth
each one pointing
in a different direction
reaffirming my previous notions
about mountains and elevation.
They take and cause pain.

I moved to Santa Barbara
just a few months ago.
The mountains are beautiful,
and I asked a local
how long does it take to
get over that view.
He said in like a month
they’ll just blend in
with the scenery.
I didn’t quite believe,
but they did.
They’re just what is.
I don’t need to be angry.
They don’t affect me.

-j.maxwell

I’ll try again,
I’m
lacking consistency.
I
don’t even know
what
I am writing about;
this
4-1-6-1
is
a pretty weird meter
but
knowing myself
I’ll
probl’y start to break out
soon
sue-une? so on.
Soon.

I want to let it all out.
Man, I can complain about anything.

Counting syllables again,
albiet actu’ly accidentally.

Maybe I’m fudging some lines.
I’m only looking
for a distraction.

It’s 5:30 A.M. and I
can’t fucking sleep. Syllables over sheep.

RPG

I think if life were an RPG
I would have made a new character by now.

I thought I was specing in the right things,
but it doesn’t seem to be working out.

I’ve spread myself to thin
now I can’t do anything well.

I could have min/maxed a bit better
I want to try something else.

Maybe a few less points in INT
and a few more in Stability.

A few more points in Science
and a few less in Poetry?

It would probably save a few people
from rolling eyes at this mediocrity.

Just tell me what a reroll costs
and this all can stop existing.

Robert Murtaugh

Yea yea,
More consciously sought distractions
yeild once more to your
millennial pre-life nihilism.

(chants of lifting bootstaps ring out in the backgound,
but Ive never seen anyone use the damn things

Tale as old as time.
Beauty and the Beast shit.
Yea sure, it’s cliche,
but at least it’s well animated.
(Don’t get me started on Emma Watson though , man, the autotune made me sick)

Maybe I’d take the crowd seriously
if they added impecable camera angles
for some sweeping ballroom scene
where they in unison tell me to get a STEM degree

(Too bad I already did))

Whatever,
guess it’s Game of Thrones.
Late to the party, I know,
but I just got my friend’s HBOGO.

But shit, if I have to watch Khalessi bitch
one more time like a spoiled rich kid
until she gets another title for her stupid duck lips
I’ll probably draw one too many analogies
linking feudalism to our current aristocracy
and frankly that makes me feel a little bit crazy
even though I’m probly not far off.

(Fuck, man. I just wanted to kill an hour before work.
Fuck work.
Overeducated, understimulated,
even though I don’t entirely hate it
but im really tired of teaching kids how to estimate
it really ain’t that fucking hard.

(Holy fuck, Aiden, sit in your goddamned seat.
Don make me glue the ground to your goddamned feet.
Don’t make me pull punches-
(No, that sounds weird, see, it’s how we let them buy snacks.)))

Read a book, but
Jesus Christ this guy is rambling.
some pop-sci bullshit,
but still hadn’t explained anything,
Heh, guess we have something in common then,
I should probly just see myself out.
-j.maxwell