stole this from a scorpio

The truth is that I'm a bad person. But, that's gonna change - I'm going to change. This is the last of that sort of thing. Now I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on, going straight and choosing life. I'm looking forward to it already. I'm gonna be just like you. The job, the family, the ***ing big television. The washing machine, the car, the compact disc and electric tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisure wear, luggage, three piece suite, DIY, game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, nine to five, good at golf, washing the car, choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption clearing gutters, getting by, looking ahead, the day you die.




damn and he's only 26. i feel the same way. just like you
i'm gonna be doing this stuff forever why
can't i be happy to be a lemming why isn't the big screen
tv enough for me, why dn't i own an electric knife
and a rotiserrie why don't i wax my goddamn car
or at least pick the clothes up off the floor?
i'm forty eight feeling fifty for three years why do i
still insist that there's more to life? deluded
delusional. the comforts we were given
to keep us in the fold. baahhhhh, moo.


there's been times i wanted to meet
a natural born killer just to help me out
of this position. maybe that's the attraction
to the dark side, seeking my assisted suicide.
today i think i'd welcome
the bullet. the garrot,the slash.
such a baby such a fader. swwimming in self
hatred , looking for the next wave up.

i haven't been to the ocean in so long.
desire and entropy battles
inside of me. come on, we know entropy's
gonna win. little bacterial breakdown
into constituencies of matterless matter.
so what does any of it matter?

i'ma laugh as hard at myself
for saying that as i've ever laughed at you.



so what is this sadness i have, this longing
for love and how you're not ready for it there's just
not enough to go around.
i'm there with you, only it was a couple months
ago. just tell me that feeling doesn't crawl inside
you like a baby bird waiting for wings, late at nite
when the sun's coming up and your eyes finally close.





was everything you ever said
all your words mere postures
~~/reverbing /sustained in my head~~
simply a bloodletting, healed?
you call me a swtich. i think
i'm a witch. let me be a bitch.
would you, please just
lie like you do everyday
to other strangers?
or tell me truth which
ever will help me move on from
this space i'm in. they
tell me i'm gullible.
and i believe them.