Complacent

No I cannot be your idol. Stop living so slow.

The thing you call living is drowning in media overflow.

We call you complacent.

We share the same name.

Brothers by nature, by mother, by pain.

Separate approaches lead to different paths.

Everyone is trying not to crack.

I’ve been thinking about getting hooked on crack.

And I'm trying, I'm trying, but there's no one to tell.

So, I know that, no matter what, I will end up in hell.

No matter, no matter, no matter what you say to me.

I know that hell just lives inside of me.

People die, but not nearly fast enough.

If I could die I would.

But still not fast enough.

Complacent is a world frozen in disaster.

I’m worried, but I’m also trying, trying, trying

To remain happy and live ever after.

Your dry eyes behind wet tears force me away.

Complacent in your own way.

The way you always were.

Anyway.

They loved you when you were 6 but had a harder time once time slipped away.

Being 16 is reason enough to be treated this way.

If you're put together now, you’ll have nothing to do at 30 or 70 or before you die

Saturn rests weighted, heavy on your third eye.

Since we’re all complacent it’s easier to stick together.

The quiet ones are declared to be good

Especially the ones who smile as we cut off their middle finger.

---- ------- ------ -----

Take it all in.

It's different than what you wanted.

It’s what you always wanted, what you worked for.

It’s more violent than what you asked for.

More denial — more hatred than you would’ve cared for.

But it’s the way it is — and denial would kill you in the end.

We fought for a system rooted in violence.

We fought so hard that we mistook violence for our friend.

But it was only Complacent.

An energy prone, not to lie

But to stand by.

To take it's time

To check its pulse

Before it made its choice, whether to help or to stay - right there

Where it is safe.

Complacent was once a lover of mine.

Simple in its way, so loving and caring with my time.

I loved her when she was by my side.

But if there was a time, that I needed her nearby

I would find her to be timid, hesitant and

Out of touch — she never reached out first.

I was always responsible for that work.

Al of the work.

Complacent was a good girl, except for when she turned her back on genocide.

And the bodies that keep falling from any high rise

She didn’t bat an eye at the dirty men and women living, dying, and fucking in the pubic eye.

Out there because they didn’t have enough cents but still they did not die.

Complacent was a daddy’s girl. She looked the other way when her mother cried.

Complacent was my name, and my mother’s name too.

We are both good women too.

Complacent is a woman without a fight

A woman who lives her ife within her own rights.

And never with the rights of others — as she

Stays in at night

Turns away from fright.

Keeps her lips shut tight.

A woman who doesn’t leave —who doesn’t go, running, when she hears a scream.

Who welcomes uneasiness with ease and has developed a general noncommittal breeze —

When talking about her dreams and, well, everything.

Especially anything that would require her to care.

It’s because we put all our cares, all sense of commitment to ourselves, to our heirs —

Towards our money.

Not our prime.

It’s the complacency eating up our time.

But I see you’re already relaxed.

That’s it girl, kick it back

Don’t scream as you feel the complacent parasite attach.

Let the system harvest you — your value is in your flesh.

Let the system harvest you — that’s your worth, not your breathe.

Ssshhh breathe in the chloroform, and don’t put up a fight.

It’s easier to harvest an animal that’s been complacent all its life.

You cannot fight a parasite

Who’s already hard enough to fuck anyone he might.

I hope Complacent, that decadent fright, dresses modestly at night.

But even that may not deter the parasite.