#doritospoetry

[doritspoetry-blog]

Well it's been a while I've been doing this and now I've decided I'm done/Please review this form of my work because there won't be another one/A deadline is the only way I can make myself move into a new form of fun/Bye, and thanks for reading brimming-with-flavor The End Of Doritos

[doritspoetry-blog]

Now listen, you knew that I'm constructed in a way that's structurally unsound/No matter how many times I have to repeat the incantation I will do as I am duty bound/Non disclosure agreements awaiting the penultimate signature are preventing the revealing of where the next form can be found/Nobody is expecting anything except for you to honor the terms of brimming-with-flavor Transitional Marriage Doritos

[doritspoetry-blog]

Nothing is extricated enough to be clean/And no I can't explain what I mean/If you understood you would have already thought it on your own and a confirmation is all my statement would have been/We're dividing into groups based on desire for brimming-with-flavor Pathological Rejection Doritos

[doritspoetry-blog]

Hold here for quiet/Don't explain the easy reason you desire it/The same one appears on the historical record, but completion is absent/Someone is crinkling and crunching brimming-with-flavor Shut Up Peace And Doritos

[doritspoetry-blog]

As part of my plea agreement I’m only allowed to buy food and supplies from the Cenex, Chevron or Shell stations (NOT Sharee’s Truck Stop) in George, Washington./The town was chosen by the Federal Prosecutor to remind me to be patriotic, but as a consequence of me having to sleep exactly half the amount of my victims (averaged) per night, they had to built a drug lab special to manipulate my consciousness, but now 27 to 31 local teens are addicted to the excess doses that the lab techs have to sell to survive of my personal alertness concoction./So I guess you could say I’ve really become an American paragon, a personal economy, a job creator, and as a thank you for the whole town having lucrative insomnia the high school shop class has been replaced by every day sculpting me a woman made of mud to my specifications, so Jimmy from the lab can watch me grind off the unwanted side-effect erection every night while timing my waking hours and yelling over and over “FUCK A TON, HON!”/I think the terms of affection are meant to confuse me and keep me alert, but I’m not allowed to ask Jimmy any questions, and he’s behind a window that blocks out any sound I make, I can only hear him because of a one-way intercom. If I eat my daily meal of one Gatorade Fierce Thirst Quencher Strawberry (whole bottle consumed), six rotisserie hot dogs in buns covered with nacho cheese, ketchup, relish and crushed Funyuns, one large bag of Gardettos (reduced fat), one king size Reese’s Fastbreak, one king size Zero Bar, and as a finisher one 24oz can of Red Bull (original flavor with sugar), Jimmy will tell me that the mud I fuck is being sold at a high premium because it is very fertile and nitrogen rich, but If I eat a different meal he will not tell me anything even though I am aware of him watching me eat. So even though I can technically roam freely within the city limits of George, most of my behavior is regulated from the outside, and the only thing I have hope for is a small bit of information that I have kept to myself and I’m sure Jimmy hasn’t noticed yet, that the Shell station is due to get a new variation, brimming-with-flavor Cruminal Whirling In Influence Doritos

[doritspoetry-blog]

I’ve become fixated on a dangerous idea. Whether its true or not doesn’t diminish its danger, it couldn’t possibly be true and yet it could make itself true. It’s a wider idea than I can think about at all at once. A little bit like the sun, but instead of hurting your eyes if you try to look at it isn’t there, because it covers everything. So here it is: the entire world is a video game or a simulation/, and I am the player, in a sense, even though the world is me, and I am trying to defeat my ‘self’ and graduate to the next level. Now you of course immediately summon a dozens iterations of this idea, The Matrix, Baudrillard, Plato’s Cave, Second Life, and I, we, should applaud ourselves for you thinking that so quickly. I never claimed to originate this idea, only obsess over it, and that response strengthens my argument. In this conception of being, everything that is noticed is significant, either as a clue or a red herring. The whole existence is working together to defeat itself by forcing the realization/ upon this selected sliver designated as me that ‘I’ have never existed and will never exist, just like the rest of everything. So every possible detail of anything I have ever noticed is either the world trying to suggest this to itself or deny it. Now you say this is solipsistic, which I can’t deny, but if everything is working in tandem like I say, you are I speaking through me trying to convince yourself this is either so or otherwise. You’ve already had every idea and every idea has already had you, with each one loosening or tightening me and you’s ‘I’, but we could be anyone, our identity will fade at the designated moment. Sometimes I think of the mechanical aspect of this idea, and what we actually or will be when this game is completed. I have nothing to go by other than how forcefully an idea has presented itself in the world and what I think of when I concentrate. The idea of the soul and how I feel it has never been adequately explained- because my true form cannot be reduced to the comparatively low resolution/ of this universe which can only display three dimensions in most situations. Or the concept of religion is actually keeping us here, with the subtle suggestion of the afterlife meaning that the rules that apply here carry over and are actually all that exists, and your personal skepticism coupled with a periodic strong attraction to religion that always fades just as quickly is a possible proof of falsity. That clause illustrates the danger nicely, you must only believe in something for it to be true, an idea you’ve always hated but could never stop from indulging. Speculation that the great figures of history, especially the ones that promoted transcendence, Buddha, Jesus, Zoroaster, L. Ron Hubbard, they are either you but your clock ran out, the high score board of this game, or a distraction from the true winners, the ones who faded away nameless and were not reincarnated. Also unclear if the player from outside the world that we are is is playing by choice or if they even have choice, if others of their kind have tried iterations of this universe that we have memory of or can never access, or if there is only one doing this over and over, perhaps in search of a purpose. Sometimes when I get in a delirious state of giving my idea for the world a lot of power, I can imagine where all the shapes, colors, sounds, tastes, sensations. ways of time that are relevant to solving the puzzle are displayed for an infinitesimal instant, the big band before the booting up of the universe. Why all the computer terminology? It’s only been getting more popular, so it’s an avenue worth pursuing. How to conceive of pain is different, haven’t you noticed your tendency to deny it though it clearly exists? The totality of suffering explained by a few splotches of color, the sound of screaming which can be dissociated from its emotion and become just another thing. Perhaps we are actually doing more poorly than any previous player, no one ever took longer than an organism with a few cells lumped together and the game is trying to end itself through increasingly elaborate means, maybe we are a criminal that is hiding here, the outside beings can’t end it because we are a master manipulator and they can’t enter the game because every time it gets close to the end we have a mechanism rigged to lie to ourself again to stay safe. This could explain the prevalence of ideas of sin, guilt, boredom, how negativity seems to win out. How pleasure is always assumed and often proven to have a foundation that is false or incomplete. Or even on a simpler level, the importance of shapes like the circle, triangle and square... but you see how this philosophy promotes the indulgence of itself by neatly explaining anything that every happened without having to catalog or even be aware of the pull toward the other side of an opening in brimming-with-flavor TMI Doritos

[doritspoetry-blog]

Lying face down on a pullout couch bed half awake with forehead on arm/The phrase "Cool Brunch Doritos" stuck in my mind as an idea for content that could charm/Before I could type, I was seized by not uncommon morning hack, but I could use this to embellish, no cause for alarm/Some days later, a friend suggested pursuing the neglected genre of corporate poetry, and here is the distance to get to today's brimming-with-flavor Anniversarial Doritos

[doritspoetry-blog]

No one has yet been able to determine when the experience of trauma forces a laugh/I mean from the traumatized, outside parties in this scenario don't graph/But when this rare reaction is heard, its harder than a comparable wrath/Comedy is harder than brimming-with-flavor Glut Buster Need Slapper Doritos