hurt
my back lifting weights
can
barely walk
drinking
pirate rum mixed with soda pop
to
numb the pain
though
i don’t really need the rain
for
a reason to drink
watching
a series on netflix
on
neurophysiology
science
is the enemy of dreamers
turning us into non-believers
who
think individual accounts
of
ghost sightings
are
just the inner workings of the mind
a belief system that doesn’t soothe
or
improve or offer hope
my
death will be just as mundane
out
here on the fringes of obscurity
as
those who aspire to ascend
jenny’s
wearing that damn red top again
i
keep glancing from the laptop to her form
while
writhing in the damnation
that
is tantamount to castration
as
the throbbing nerve in my back
makes
me incapable of any attack
and
my damn glass is empty again
i
am glad i didn’t become a nihilist
until
later in life
once
i wanted to live a life approved by god
write
a screenplay where everyone would applaud
as
i took the stage to accept my oscar
now
all motion is meaningless
and
the older i get the harder it is to move
and
though i never shut up
i
don’t believe a thing i write matters
not
like two decades ago when i wrote,
“dollar
dances don’t define diction
truth
will be spoken in the fiction”
but
then back then i thought
words
were weighted with truth
now
words are just an angry shaking fist
directed
at everything on my list
of
things i use to believe were true
a
side effect that may occur
is
nothing is any fun anymore
i
take that back
i
still love going places
walking
around hollywood
or
the coast line of summer
in
the county of los angeles
that
is if i could walk
though
that’s not my point
i
never write to make a point
and
often tell pointless stories
we
perceive conquest and glory
but
it is only perceived
kings
still die
and
unfaithful queens lie
and
nobody lives happily ever after
and
there is no one
conducting
the horn section or the strings
in
the galactic philharmonic symphony orchestra
***
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