home remedies

my fucking head hurts
from what I didn't do, today
or yesterday and most likely
yet again tomorrow, and there's only one way
to quiet the son of a bitch. Not pills,
or alcohol or -

well, I suppose enough of both would do

- but maybe just this: shutting
it out, and getting down
to it.

ow

last man on earth?

If I were the last man on earth, I
think I'd have more important things darling
than to worry about your "not ifs" - I mean

let's face it, plenty of girls and women are
(like me) patriots of a sort, when it comes
to the human species. The species must continue, if I
were the last man on earth, it would practically be
my bounden duty to go around impregnating
as many willing females as possible, let's be honest -

this would be no hardship on them. With women
running things, we'd have a huge surplus of
whatever women want, which is mostly good things,
and a gigantic deficit of the kind of shit
men tend to need to prove. And I'm guessing it
would not be about wars, and borders, and
fundamentalisms that bigot us against each other
anymore - I am pretty sure, with women running things,
most fundamentalists would breathe a huge sigh
of relief and say, "Can I take this
suffocating thing off now? Can I put
down this prop and put my hands
to the proper soothing
of humanity's ills?"

Or what's left of it.

All men gone.

Last man on earth.

This would be a catastrophe,
for a lot of people. But me, I would try
to suck it up, labor manfully on, doing my part
as best I can, and you can be sure that most women
are not of your weird, selfish ilk! Most women
can see the bigger picture, and would be on board
vigorously and with commitment to what needs to be done:

For the species!

The species must go on, and I am very good
at doing what needs to be done in a crisis,
when the chips are down, when humanity's very existence
is on the line and the only thing that can save us now
depends on continuing, on going on, well: we must go on.
And I am damn certain that the rest of humanity (unlike you
- you must have some kind of attitude problem! Or
your priorities are just...messed up) but
the rest of humanity,

or what's left of it

(the better half)

would be right there with me
in this suddenly most urgent of tasks. And
pitching in, and helping each other do everything else.
We'd need to raise as many squalling, lusty, robust
brats as fast as possible! And I regret that
the sheer numbers of these
bastards would probably make it
difficult for me ever to be a real presence
as a parent, in their lives. As a good influence
- as a father, as a father figure, I'd probably be
distant at best, and the prospect pains me. But
I trust humanity

especially what's left of it, in this scenario

To pick up my slack, and I know everyone will be pulling
together, because we have to. It would be pretty awkward
probably, but unselfish people (unlike you) do what needs to be done.
Whereas you, with your "not if you were the last man on earth!"
- who even says that these days? Is this the fifties?
Haven't we grown (as a species)
more wise, more responsible
about apocalypse scenarios since those innocent, black and white
times? Baby, if I

were the last man on earth, I'd like to think
better of you

than to believe you'd stick at that point. Think
about what you're saying! What about humanity?
The species! Hey, if that's how you feel, then

we don't need you. I know I don't.

Not if I were the last man on earth.

Man.

The last man on earth.

What nightmare scenario could bring that about. I would miss
my brothers and my dudes and my men so much, and with a tear
in my eye and a catch in my throat, I guess

I would have to get down to business, wouldn't I? We all would. The species

the species.

How hard a road would that be to come back. And what
a long haul! Picture the decades
passing. For one thing, by two decades after

"the event"

(whatever it comes to be called, my guess is
with no men around to slap overdramatic
science fiction names on everything, it
would be called something low-key), everyone
under twenty would pretty much have to be
either my son or daughter. And how would the next
phase play out? Poor kids. What a messed up world,
what a messed up upbringing that would end up being
- or, maybe not? With women running things - and many of them,
scientists, geneticists - probably a lot of taboos could be
replaced with pragmatics. I'm sure they could work stuff out
pretty well. Various systems, to where the next generation
could rapidly fan out within the remaining population still able
to procreate, and get some proper diversity going, a good-sized
breeding population after a generation or two. Just mathematically

it's still going to be a long time
before overpopulation will ever be an issue again.

Who knows, maybe the whole thing would be a good thing. But
still

It's very sad

A catastrophe. Last man on earth.

Now that I think about the scientists, and geneticists and
doctors - there's also quite a lot of sperm on tap,
in frozen supplies, so - they might not even need me at all.

well screw them then.

and screw the world, if that's the case!
screw the species. The species can go fuck itself then. Baby,
if I were the last man on earth,

I would ask you to marry me.

joys of moaning

Man

moaning, I haven't thought about that
in ages. I used to moan

when I was a kid, and sick and it hurt, when
I was a kid and nobody was around. But I remember one time
a few years back, I was sick

and in quite a lot of pain, and I suddenly remembered
how I used to moan

I was home, alone so I just thought
I'd give it a try

experimentally

Next thing I knew, I was lying in bed,
moaning and I didn't realize my girlfriend
had come home. Now,

she knew I was in a bad way
since that morning, but here she was, home
probably alarmed, initially - her "big strong man" lying in bed
MOANING? But the longer she stood there, I am sure
- listening to me lying there, oblivious to her presence, moaning
not loud, just sort of low and continuously?

Finally she put her hands on her hips:
"OH SHUT UP YOU BIG BABY"

I shot back "FUCK YOU!

IT FEELS GOOD TO MOAN"

It does feel good to moan.
I mean, you can't go around doing it
all the time. And it's no panacea
- you still feel horrible, but

the hum and vibration and airflow
or something
is soothing to your pain. Your body
recognizes an attempt is being made
to comfort it,
like when you hold a distressed infant
high on your chest, and jostle
the poor dear thing

saying "JJUUUUJZSH, jjuujzsh jjuujzsh jjuujzsh!
Jjuuujzsh, jjuujzsh jjuujzsh jjuujzsh!"
until the baby's "waaaaaah" sort of
stretches out lazily and trails off.

Poor baby.

do not unplug

I'm not sure when
or why
or how
it happened, but
then I guess I'm not sure
in general, about most things. Sure,
I still stay up late,
in the wings, watching sides
split as the spotlight
burns bright on today's
big hit comedian, but
it's me there
people are laughing at. I
don't know why they can't see
it stings. And it wasn't
a joke. It was so
sincere, I guess
I suck, as such
per se
I was not born
to be here
on a planet
like this one, with all
you highly-evolved
primates
trying to get the best of me
involved in whatever this thing
is called

society

is a one-trick
son of a bitch
bum steer, that some
son of a bitch
tricked you once
to buy hook, line,
sinker and Brooklyn
Bridge,
and whether that tricky
son of a bitch was your mom,
your dad, your forever best
friend, your wife,
or the end
of a long succession of people
you thought you could trust,

Let me tell you:

you must.

You just must. You
have to. There are no other options, you must

buy in. There is no resistance, no
chance to push back,
no value to the chips
you try to cash in,
get a different deal cut
to some other track quick
fast in a hurry, but. This -
is all you got,
and all you get, so don't worry. Life

is the worst thing you'll ever have to get through. But
it's over quite soon, and
you'll be wondering why you even thought

you were part of it.

grow old

there's nothing precious about this moment
let time stretch out for a while
did you ever want to grow old, together
with anyone? Well,
who wants to grow old? Let's

see that smile
stretch wide
with its wrinkles, spread
and crinkling,
webs pinched 'round your eyes,
skin drying out smooth
instead of the youth
and foolishness you were
taut, no

taught

to say everything,
in school. Words
would come out your mouth
like "forever," well

I kind of want to go there with you

as pitch.

I like you, more
than you're allowed to know. It
would upset the balance of several worlds
if each everyone involved
were explicit enough
on each point of what

we'd be willing to slough
- sacrifice; suck up
for what gleam
we could gain -
and the treasure involved
is far more

than could count
using maths, or
domestic gross products,
or gold - is far more
than the pain

could be, balancing out

could I let you know that?
could your dainty hands hold
what the full count was worth?
of potential
untold, oh, "potential"
yes,

that.

And "untold" for good cause.
It could never come true, not
by plausible laws
of the universe, fully ordered
and ordained. Could it ever? No, not
not made fact, not maintained,
and not realized.

No. Which is why I can't trust

selling you on some scheme

on some fantasy

us

of W. Shakespeare

how many words Shakespeare just...
made up out of whole beam, and they stuck!
Because he had a knack for it.
The language,
for him,
was not just one
but many horses, and he rode each one
'til it was fit to be knackered, and it was never
the same beast
afterwards.

A fine neologian! He was.
Bastard dramatist, though.

All that contorted bullshit
he put Hamlet through,
as if any sane Prince

could have stretched that shit out
beyond an Act's worth.

Hamlet's sin
wasn't to have been born indecisive.

- it's that he thought insanity

was a plausible plea to build a stratagem upon.

Still,
he did it cannily, if you don't mind
the collateral damage. Please,
it's Laertes

and Ophelia I mourn,

primarily. Theirs,
the price of being born

in a world whose creator
makes the words up

as he goes.

"sweet tooth"

You're so much more than a candy store.
I am so much more than a kid, you know -
but if life seems sweet every time I see more
of what's there behind glass, in the shop window,
sometimes I can't help wanting everything.
All at once, 'til my head and my sweet tooth aches!
But I am not a kid, as I hope you know.

And you're no candy store, for goodness sakes

butchered

you butchered my language,
and drained the blood,
and carved it, sliced lean
but well-marbled,
served it up, raw
but very well done.

"Circles Around Me"

All my life I've tried so hard
to be the better half
every time I try for true love
I really bust my ass
but she breezed in and put me to shame
easy as can be
I might be good for her
but she's much better for me

she loves circles around me
yes she does
she loves circles around me, yeah,
she does

I'm so good at being in love
I'm the natural
just like wonder boy, Roy Hobbs
hitting that curve ball
but I'm not even in her league
I'm way up in the stands
she's showering sparks on me
I'm just her favorite fan, she loves

circles around me,
yes she does
she loves circles around me, yeah
she does
she does, she does she loves
circles around me,
she loves circles around me, yeah
she loves circles around me
yes, she does

she has got me memorized
I'm file away
she can get what I don't mean
from what I didn't say
and I wonder: "What's the point?
Where do I even fit?"
'Cause I just can't compete
she's so much better at it!

I could sacrifice my self
to the big ideal
ratchet up the genuine love
be just that much more real
but what's it even gonna achieve
who is it going to fool
one look at her next to me
just what am I trying to pull?

she loves circles around me

in your dreams.

of course I'm in love! and of course she likes
me

(which is kind of a slight
calamity, in the grand scheme
of things), but who cares? It'll all

even out: eventually.

By the end of the night,
in real life if we like, if we wish
we shall see, or
if not,

in your dreams

tips on watching The Bourne Identity for the first time

Tips

on watching The Bourne Identity

Watch it full
immersion. lights off
like a movie

Suspense flicks need
and reward immersion.

Don't
expect a hero. A person
like that - in reality -
is a casualty.

Don't
expect reality. With a person
like that, reality

is a diversion

jack-pot

I just suddenly got excited for you
because you have me!

if
you wanted to, and
I think you know this. It's
amazing

at times,

like a lottery prize
oh, the look in your eyes

When someone just suddenly sees what you're worth (and
especially when
you're one dumb sumbitch prick,
arrogant straight from birth, and
you've always outmeasured your own weight
in gold) - well,

the look in your eyes
is a thing to behold: you

are just as proud of me

you're just as vain in me

as I am?

Come true!

- I
just suddenly got

so excited for
you

the emoticon artist refrains, for once

Sometimes
I smile as I type some
thing, and
I can't bring
my

self

to put a smiley down, because
people will just
think that means:

I'm joking.

But the fact is,

I'm just

so far

from

a

f
r
o
w
n
.

was there a note?

Dear

you know who the fuck you are:

I wouldn't give you the God-damned
satisfaction.

In fact,
I'm going to live
for another hundred fucking years.
I'm going to invent a serum that lets me, and then
I'm going to taunt the world with it to the tune of,
why, the patent sales alone will be worth, oh, untold
billions, correct? Yes. Except

when they find out it doesn't work for them,
I'll probably get
sued.

But what did I expect? Who

cares?

Whoever cashes in, whoever benefits
from whatever that little class action farce nets,

I will laugh all the way
to each individual funeral, and wink
at whoever catches the bouquet.

Do they do that at funerals?

They should start.

Because pardon the morbid levity, but
I'm just savoring the inevitability of my triumph,
and guess what? Living,

well,

it's the best revenge.

So rest assured: friend, nobody
has to worry about reading my note. No suicide, nope
By the time you read this, hope
you have your end
of our affairs in order, because
whatever you meant to me
- by the time you read this note -
it will already have died.

Sincerely,

Love,

Forgive me please,

I am desperately yours,

Well, maybe
jeez,

well maybe just whatever you
had meant to me

will have already died

by the time
I finish writing this note.

I sincerely hope so.

we'll see

I'll try.

I don't get it Pt. 2

I'm sorry

I know it was a joke, and I just wish
I had a sense of humor left

after believing you

lived by degrees

remember when we lived by college
degrees,

and we couldn't find enough future
to plan within?

What happened
to the scope of our horizons, back then?

Was it the scope of our endeavors that closed us in?

We swore
that we could take life,
all in one bite.

I can't escape this feeling that we've wasted our lives.

Well,

one of us

has wasted the other's, at least.

I'm not naming names, but you know who, yeah
you know me.

How's the path you chose treating you, now

please?

oh,

you can tell me. Our lives lived

by degrees

close sesame

How many magic words, passwords,
secret codes, are there in this world

to doors we walk by every day, all unknowing?

Ever so much less than life could be:
it is.

Or so we get the sense.

yet

how disappointing would it be,

if we were wrong?

Invasion: Me

This is my house.
This is my life,
my territory by deed and right,
and I have it dead
to rights, I am

going in:

going in! go! go
the signal, the alarm,
synchronized, watch to warning
coordinate and unleash harm,
scorning incoming fire,
beat back all defenses
inch by piece, by yard
by the mile will yield,
the battlefield
laid bare to artillery eyes,
undone
by hands digging in
like armored divisions,
as my intentions crawl over all,
like infantry

map out a plan
of sneak attack: blitz
this
sodden and beleaguered wreckage
into beaten submission, into beaten
shape, using
well,
brute force,
main strength,
atrocity, if need be
everything as necessary: this fort
will be leveled, laid open to
advance

and there will be no more

shame. In love and war, we all die
heroes, here. We come, marching
like ants.

History is won

by we: who shall write this
book.

the time without you.

the time without you.

is almost over, and
I wonder what I'll miss most
when it's gone, and I'm

not ever alone again?

I know what I miss most right
now.

remember us unanimous

I think I remember the film
and as I recall, I think
we both kind of hated it.

Didn't you? Correct me if I'm
wrong.

"Bitch, You Don' Love Me No Mo'"

Bitch,
you don' love me no mo'.
I can tell it
from how you're never lovin' me
I can smell it
on your shoulders, and
the crook of your neck
I can see it
from the look in your eyes, which is called:
'away';
that look is called 'away'
I have seen that look, baby, and I
know what it means.
you look away from me, baby
I mean bitch. Baby, I don't mean
that you're a "mean bitch," no
because you aren't. Or a cold bitch, no - you
aren't that either. But in fact, you are a bitch,
in fact you are one of the most delicious bitches in existence, and in fact
I only said "one of" because of the plural. "One of the most delicious
bitches in existence." Sounded a little better than "the most delicious bitch
in existence," but either way - that bitch is you, baby, you are
one hells of a hot bitch, bitch!
I mean, baby.
bitch, you got me all confused.

baby I have to say
hey
what the hell happened? to this love of ours
this love of yours
that you used to have for me
which made it mine, and
which I gave right back to you,
which then made it ours, but
the whole transaction, maybe it got confused
but to me it made perfect, perfect, sense
sense sense sense sense. Like evidence
proved in court, with a unanimous jury to tell the judge
what's what. And yes
they say that love is a bitch, baby,
but baby:
if that's so,
I will take you
over that bitch,
every damn day in a row. If only
I could. But baby,

you don't love me no mo'

pygmalion ears

nothing in life makes as much sense
as what you told me, just that once
(which, as it turns out, I misunderstood
) are

you sure?

that you didn't mean that thing?
When nothing in life or reality
has ever made near that much sense to me

I swore
you were a genius, with
my best interests at heart
and I counted myself blessed,
in a universe

that had fallen into place, but

can just as easily fall apart:
it was only a work of art

my mind (or heart, or soul)
had sculpted

truth or beauty, but
alas, not both

some form took shape upon your words
that the pure marble of your intent
never meant

these curves, I chipped, smoothed and polished
in an instant

and conceived
what I wanted to hear.
I have trespassed upon

you,

but I was
I swear,

completely sincere

for a minute
I thought

it
was
all so clear.

no reason

again and again I intend no offense
I'm telling you these things
because they make sense - to me,
they do - and for no other reason.
The ways I've gone wrong, I don't mind
if you see them. It all started out
in my childhood, now. We had neighbors
three doors down, a family - whose
father would die quite suddenly,
all the time, what a nuisance -
I learned nothing from them at
all. And from my own mother! She
often made things I don't like
to eat. This left upon me - not
scars, but a certain unwillingness
to mince words, or to lard or freight
them with "purpose." Things

should be said for no reason,

or not at all.

"so much better"

show me your eyes
don't you know what you want?
you don't have to try to convince me, if you don't
you don't have to lie, either way
just say you don't care
if I get up and jump out a window to leave you alone
you don't have to try
you don't have to give
but you'll lose it if
you don't make up your mind

and I know it doesn't matter what I mean or what I say
but I'd be feeling so much
better, if you'd stay

it's hard to explain
there I was just as happy as anyone
we were both just as happy as anyone
(till now)
(I thought)
and if I was wrong -
can't I try to make it up now?
why is it too late now?
tell me it's not too late
you don't have to lie
you don't have to care
but there's too much here
to throw it all away

and I know it doesn't matter what I mean or what I say
but I'd be feeling so much
better, if you'd stay

I feel like you're gone
like I can't do a thing
I guess I was wrong not to see this long ago
so how many times
(when you said that you loved me?)
tell me how long has it been, since you were sure?
you don't have to say
it won't matter now
you just have to do what it's best for you to do
you can just walk away
'cause I don't know how
I guess everything you never said
was true

and I know it doesn't matter
if you never let me know
and I won't try to make it better
if you're sure you want to go
and I know it doesn't matter
what I mean or what I say
but I'd be feeling so much
better,

if you'd stay

"Idle"

Darling, your mind
is the devil's workshop, let alone
"idle hands" that guy
was called "Light"
but you know what? you
could shed far more than he
pretended to. He Accused,
you only critiqued,
and complained
you could see What It Is
even though
you were pained, you
did not
cast the blame
upon some cosmic cause
"I can see," so you said
"It is good,"
There are laws.

If anyone thinks

If anyone thinks

I'm the indestructable
unwise
infallible
guardian of right,
able to slice and dice and justify, well
I just might

but, you'd be wrong
to think that of me. It's too high
an expectation.

If anyone thinks
I'm a real human being, and knows it, and I know it. If
that's what you think, if you know
(or think) I'm full of shit, well:
you'd be wrong. I just took a shit,
and that was all the shit I had on.

Or in me.

But if anyone thinks I think I am the shit,
or that my shit don't stink, or I think that it does
n't, well, I'll tell you what: mine is the scent
of the rose,
freshly fertilized. So strong, it grows. But *PHEW*
if anyone thinks
I'm better (or think that I'm better) then they are,
they are sadly

Mistaken. Or, if anyone thinks

that I think I am better
than anyone, I hope I am shot in the face
before that evaluation
can even take place.

Because: Opinions

are severable from people, people. Mine
are (to my mind) better than equal, better
than the ones
that I had before, but

against the world?

I am not keeping score. I

can be no better
than anything that's yours. Because if I was,
I am a piece of shit. Worse

than that. This is the place where I admit
I am smacked. If anyone thinks...

what is wrong
or
is right
or
whatever belongs
has anything to do with
what any other person has opinions of

or on

well, that's either wrong, or I guess
it's right

but I'm not the judge.

If anyone thinks

that I'm right...

...I wish I was.

If anyone thinks I'm wrong...

...I hope I learn.

If anyone thinks I am straight,

I hope I swerve.

If anyone thinks I'm damned,

I hope I burn.

At least enough

for me to learn why
they thought I deserved an eternity of earned
punishment. I

also hope they're wrong.

Not my call, but

the more I learn
I expect to be able to accept
all

of how
and why
and what.

Where do I...?!

Where do I get off
liking you so much, I don't
know you
know you
know I
do I?

know you at all,
no! I

do I?

I

feel like I do.

Do you?

There's no way
of asking this
is there

My life,
is the story
of that.

no one's breaking into my house

every day, I take precautions
and every night, I sleep
with weapons, and
no one's breaking in
to my house, I'm checking each
time, window, door
I am secure, verifiably
secure, and
can I call off the alert?
no one's stalking
no one's trying to prove me
wrong, kill me: a monster, no one's
trying anymore,

to protect the world
from me, with heroic measures
maybe
all of it was a joke
but how
do you trust a joke
from a monster
you cannot trust
when some one tells you, they
will slap your parents, show up

I

am a literalist, someone tells you
they may show up uninvited

one day, they will

it's insane to joke
about things that kill

the worst

I almost confessed to you
so many things that would have hurt me, forever
for you to know
you have know idea, how willing
was I
to spill everything out,
all the worst
that is in me
(cause it is)
with no lie
no conceal
no ulterior
I was at one
with the need to make sure
you knew exactly what you were getting
no false advertising
and

you know what?
you missed the moment
and I guess you will never know, but

I am still there.

Full disclosure

at will.

Well,

so what.

You would have found out, anyway
except you won't.

except

you

did.

model

None of what I know
about me helps. And
it sucks, because I
worked for forever
trying to find it
out. And it was

so much better

than when I didn't know myself
at all, or I thought so.

But it doesn't actually make a difference.

I've built
a ship in a bottle; perfect,
and becalmed.

"Think Too Much"

well the thoughts that I get
have been getting so hard to entertain
in the back of my head
your words are running circles around my brain
and I heard what you said
but it's making less sense to me each time
it plays back in my head
I hit play
pause
stop, rewind

she thinks
I think too much
she speaks for both of us
she thinks
I think too much
she's probably right enough

I'm not sure where we stand
but I'd like to get back to lying down
with you holding my hand
and the rest of my life all figured out
with our backs too the floor
asking all the right questions you'll ignore
with a turn of your head
your eyes
say:
it's all been said

she thinks
I think too much
she speaks for both of us
she thinks
I think too much
she's probably right enough
she thinks
I think too much
she says I'm too in love
she thinks
I think too much
she's probably right

with that look on your face
- is there something inside you're holding back?
when you look into space
- are the aliens making eye contact?
are you reading my thought
am I thinking some thing I shouldn't ought to be
thinking at all?
and if so
well
who's responsible?

she thinks
I think too much
she speaks for both of us
she thinks
I think too much
she's probably right enough
she thinks
I think too much
she says I'm too in love
she thinks
I think too much
she's probably right

please, some compassion for the insensitive

Some of us find
it's easy to see,
to foresee
to five see
to sixth sense it, some of us
have a seemingly preternatural zen
sense for others' hot buttons
and no-cross lines. How easy
life and human interaction
must seem, for those people

For those unfortunates among us, who
try as they might, are constantly told
they are tone-deaf to the infinitely
subtle, sprawling, intricate web of sensitivity,
woven in beautiful snarls from the threads
that each and every individual
differently spins out into the air
- and expects to see respected!
- for those who are not so blessed
with such fine-honed sense
of what is about to be taken askance, I
will make my plea now:

That compassion be extended.

Please,
have compassion for those who, this time around,
were not able to predict your particular sensitivity up-front.

So many suffer through life,
born through no fault of their own,
with no Spider-Sense that goes off clanging alarum
on anything that might trip or set off
the jangling sensitivities of this
or that specific other person. Life
can be very hard for these,
the sensitivity-impaired. Many of them
are honestly and sincerely, compassionate individuals
- who try hard, often, hard as fuck,
and who would and do hate to cause
hurt, harm, or upset, and who every time
it happens every damn time, it happens and I
am left wringing my hands after, helplessly
they, I mean, are left wringing their hearts and heads, trying
to figure out how
to see it coming next time
And coming up empty,
blindsided again. When you find yourself

in a world where so many
people's taboos and sensitivities
strike you as impossible
to predict or even to understand, sometimes
the only possible solution you come up with is:

to shut the hell up already.

ahead, on-balance

the universe is a gift too good to send back.
Which is good
because customer service is sacked, you lost
the receipt, and it was free admission
to begin with, jack.

Life:
a great deal!

It's true
it doesn't always work out for everybody.
Plenty of times, not even for me. You know,
life is not just a great deal. It's a great deal
of pain

But you know what?

Fuck it. Right?

The pattern so far,
I come through scathed,
pounded, broken and eventually saved,
rescued, by the proper authorities or
some kind soul. And what's on the other side,
long before the healing begins, torn and aching
and bandaged or maybe just, bleeding from a wound
in one's pride - once you've come through
the immediate threat of death, what is
on the other side is worth
getting over it for.

After enough broken skin and bones, you begin
to think you have a charmed life. The reminders strike
you as talismans.

I kind of like the shiny pink streaks of skin,
where the low volcano mountain range of scabs
falls away.

I like that they last a long while, then fade.

I'm really quite fond of nature red in tooth and claw.
Food poisoning? So fucking what? I'm having some more
scallops.

Germs, they have to eat and fuck, too. I expect I'll die
in writhing agony, one of these days. I might luck out,
but...whether I do or not, I still say: life
is a bargain.

A great fucking deal. No doubt.

If I were an atheist, I'd say the same damn
thing. Damn. Either way:

I paid nothing to get in. And most of it - especially
the literature and the museums! - it's enough to blow
your fucking mind, let alone rock and roll

Do you realize that when they let me in the door,
that was my pre-ticket ticket to potentially,
every rock show going? It's a dilemma,
just to orchestrate the logistics
of which ones you can fit in. Fuck.

After all's send and done, I hope
I don't "bitch out" later. Start
whining. It'd be pretty churlish,
pretty childish, when everything
up to that moment was free, to complain

about the occasional rifle bullet

exiting my skull

letting out my brain

certain logic

There's a certain logic
to what you don't.

You've never been one to forge a chain, but

link by link,
so absently,

you're binding me fast, with nothing
that we

can ascertain.

part of my faith

I lost part of my faith
but it's okay
I know where it is, if I'm ever that safe
if I'm ever that dumb, if I'm ever
that slow

it's behind me right now
catching up to me

GO

No Misanthrope

Sometimes I dress in black.
Sometimes I hate the world
Sometimes it touches me
in ways I don't deserve
keep your labels off of me
you don't have the first idea
any box you put me in
will be completely empty
I'm
all
right

I'm no misanthrope

I love life

I'm no misanthrope

people are fine

I'm no misanthrope,

I just don't like
you.

Sometimes I hate myself
I still think I'm okay
I get self-critical
it's probably not a phase
keep your feelings off of me
you don't have the worst idea
thank you for the shoulder
in my face that's snot
it's not tears
I'm
all
right

I'm no misanthrope

I love life

I'm no misanthrope

people are fine

I'm no misanthrope,

I just don't like
you.

No I don't like your hat
No I don't like your shoes
And everything between
's a tool that I can't use
Any box you put me in
will be completely empty
but if you draw a line around
me where I stand, please look. See:
I'm
all
right

I'm no misanthrope

I love life

I'm no misanthrope

people are fine

I'm no misanthrope,

I just don't like
you.

And I don't care what lines you see

I can't talk long

I can only talk to you for an hour
two at the most
there's a terrible lot of housework I've been trying to put off
I must get to it, more or less-immediately,
but
I can take a break for a moment, before I begin
to talk to you forever
again,

if I can

some other fate

can't help but wonder what it would all be like
if things had all been different
if everything had all gone down
in a different way -

would things still have turned out the same?

I can't help but think
things might be changed. I can't help but dwell
on all the ways

and what would have happened
to you and me?

or would it have all just ended up
like we did
like it was
I wish I could say "we'll see," but
of course we won't.

Maybe everything was all just supposed
to turn out
like it did

like it does

as if pre-arranged. but
if everything were different, leading up
like if we were both bananas, or
feet; feet with human hearts
and souls - you a right foot, me a left -
like Montagues and Capulets,
foredoomed to a love that everyone hates
well, even with just that little change, up front
it's so clear it could never unfold the same way

to change just one thing, changes everything else
to some other fate

but it hardly helps.

when i was a kid

when i was a kid,
my brother had a poster on the wall
of everything

I would look at it all day
and not figure it out
maybe so there'd be something left
to try to figure out

when he left home,
the poster stayed
it wasn't my room anymore
it wasn't my room anymore, but
I stayed a few years, and then I
left a few years

when I came back,
the whole wall was empty,
and painted gray