tango then crash

got some musics running thru
my head. my new baby comp got a virus
so i'm back to the old one.
i'm not allowed to have anything nice
remember?

stupid tarot sez and stupid horror sez
and i just am so tired of listening to the voice
of the gods telling me things i don't want
to hear. much less believe. so i ostrich

under my feathers, pretend i don 't want you
and if i say it enough times it'll come true.
anyway i think the things i have are nice.
if a bit careworn or a li'l bashed. lines
running down the screen, backlite going out.
torn paper lantern. squishy aching bedsprings.
my hips, turning fifty before the rest of me.
thank you ibuprofen inventor. and of course
the gods of weed. i have nice friends
and that makes up for all the other things
i don't have including a lover who knows
what the word love means.