this is me:

hair tied back,
maybe a hat or something
to keep the strands of hair,
(both black & gray)
from smearing out the lines
ready & waiting.

slap dash requiem with
marble collars and velveteen
ropes. inhalation helps,
no more than a bumpers worth
to keep moving forward.
fanatic umbrella plans to
keep the rain from falling;
something ain’t right.

keep coming back without getting caught.
there’s a recipe
for long term success & torpor.
dissonance is easy; though
arguments could be made
that reactionary archetypes
do no more service than
fairy tales. give it some thought.

this is him:

he’s leaving the room to
do his crying someplace private;
unless i’m wrong, and those
aren’t really tears. read into
such pioneering ain’t some
last ditch effort to inspire.
‘boy just had something to say.

sad stories bore me,
so i didn’t hear what you were saying.
i know that sad-sack look;
glaring family sitting in
a smi-circle, telling you
“boy, we love you.

but we’re so disappointed.”
that kind of parabolic
wake-up is destined
to produce short-term results.
for anything more you’d need
to do better than that.
who really gives a fuck,

run boy.


Inspired by an “Intervention” episode on silent while “Freak Show Excess” plays loud int he background. Dedicated to same. Put it this way; if I hadn’t made that comment, I doubt this would have seemed that important.


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