Krip Nepo Baby

jealous???????

Image description:

Image description: me! as a tiny tiny toddler. I have short blonde hair, a blue romper with a geometric flowery design, a mostly-eaten bagel in one hand, the other hand with its thumb in my mouth. My father (RIP) is behind me, with glasses, black curly hair, a white collared shirt, and the gold chain I assume is legally required of every Jersey guido. A big stuffed Barney the dinosaur is also in the corner.

I.

Capitalism:

A term that rings

With the sting of

Quotidian evils and yet

Trite in its invocations and yet

Nonspecific

Systematized harm

Framed as an accident

But totally woven into a family

Almost as natural as an accent

And

Life after life of

Little joys like palliative care

.

.

I am

A krip nepo baby

I learned from my father

though spited and tired

the iron man endurance

needed to fight insurance

while deeply weakening

.

But of course they evolved many new strategies to master:

Understand, these were the days when insurance could still refuse to cover you for whatever it determined to be a “preexisting condition”

.

.

Something pathologized

At the beginning of your beating heart

.

.

Tricks of the trade:

resilience

Ironclad paperwork;

Call after call after call after call after call after call after call after call after

call after call after call after call after call

Argument after argument;

They start out Kafkaesque and only get worse from there

You, unable to work

But forced to remain on hold again until

You can explain everything again again

To another underpaid customer service representative

Who also wants to die

.

.

.

You want us to be independent but then

Make living too expensive and all the workers

Expendable

How could we be dependable

Tried to live a normal life

Forced to be exceptional

.

.

Shaped by mistakes made to be high stakes

A cage of fate, I wake up afraid

.

When your story is not yours to tell

Merely edging towards a prophecy met

.

.

The charm of chewing into you for not choosing better

From an underwhelming check

.

Like Ayn Rand wasn’t also one of those Medicaid deadbeats

.

Cannot divorce from the hands being forced

Henceforth

.

Bleeding to be freed from

Appeasing the police state

Enough to see another day

.

Fully grown and not still

Blamed for “behaviors”

The way they frame teenagers

For finally figuring out that they can

And should

Talk back

.

.

I am an archive of the art of starving

A self descended from Hell itself

.

.

Figured if I just

Go from the gutter with rigor

I’ll slip into the sky and its glitter

And die trying, regret tastes too bitter

.

.

.

II.

I am

Made of rage and

Hunger pangs

and

Caught up in

condemnation

by a nation of con men

A hodgepodge of obligation

Great productions of destruction

Unprocessed government forms

A parent who blames you for being born

Treats you like shit, and then

Has the audacity to

Act appalled if you don’t

Respect them and show fear

Show the endless deference

.

It’s almost like you made me

Just to kick around

.

Homo sick of the homogenous

No homes for the godless

As if God had ordained nepo babies and

The forever wars

I see all that genocide and go

“Absolutely fucking not”

.

.

.

III.

This shit’s rigged, man

.

And we have no choice but to play anyway.

.

We have to hope that someone fucks up and plays the wrong hand or

We have to out-cheat the cheaters

Who keep the top seats by reminding us that they’re undefeated

.

My well-worn smile to cope

Plastered on

to feign gracious as I choke

I had to want first place enough to get here

But I have to also be fine with being left behind

A good sport, am I, I just enjoy it

It’s just someone else’s time to shine

I’m an adult, I’m used to disappointment

Used to the rules askew

Used to

Tonight’s winner, Skeleton Crew!!

.

.

Four stars

.

Meanwhile

I paid to sit on a train that was late

Then haul my shit on my bad back and

Spend all my spoons to

Prepare for this and

Clear out a week before and after

Braved my way through every disaster

And played through the pain

I mean so much pain—

.

You know what, my back isn’t bad

She’s trying her best

.

It’s just—

.

My knees ache

They scream for mercy

Because they know that I can’t

.

Hands still shaking

Cause of the holes in my brain

.

I did everything right

I did everything you said!!!!!

I followed ALL the rules!!!!!!!!

.

I keep switching when I find out

The game’s rigged and

That’s the real thing

This isn’t some game to me

This is my whole name for me

It’s the final chance for me

.

I’m literally on my last legs

Because I tried to walk

In these ways that weren’t made for me

.

And I tried my best but me and the bank account

that bears my name

are all

o

f

f

b

a

l

a

n

c

e

And I’m still standing here before you

The pitiable invalid

Challenging you to see my talent

And not the cane with me

.

.

Every time I

Only learn to make it more impossible for you to ignore me

And you’ll still use up those excuses

And I’ll only get more used to it

But

Much stronger forces

Have tried to kill me and yet—

.

.

I stood in line for this shit

Climbed steep stairways

Disassociated for all these blocks

Ignored my head throbbing

And my feet on fire

Changed my gait

To make way for the new pain

.

.

Begged to

Let them harvest us

Begged to hear “you’re part of us”

.

But now that I know all the REAL rules

I know just how to make trouble

After all

I don’t think I know how to build

From anything but rubble

.

.

.

.

.