the trials and tribulations of growing up in a world stripped of authenticity


it feels as if there is a little part of me

small, but growing more potent as the sun makes its tired arc over 


further down, the little box continues that intrepid persuasion 

my acrimony for the stupid thing grows more and more

somehow interrupting me when i find myself with nothing to do at all 

it is always there

it always persists

pushing too far

making it so hard

to ask myself what i would do without it


like all things, in some enlightened sense, it can be said it holds more on the inside than to what meets the eye

but somehow the wretched thing grows more and more shallow 


only things that are real come from real life.

as it reveals more of itself to me, i find myself making excuses

excusing fallacies and lies

excusing things i have always held true and inexcusable


losing more and more of myself

but somehow learning more than i ever have

but somehow growing, changing, evolving

becoming something new in both good and bad ways


only things that are real come from real life.

but, sometimes, other things become just as real.