Upward mobility
isn’t funny
when you realize
there’s nothing up there
but
their
soulless stares
and a bunch of laughter, coming from a madman
because he lost it
on his climb to nowhere.
I want better friends
I want better stuff
Why am I
not enough?
I don’t want to sit at this desk all day
but I have to
Otherwise,
I won’t be able to pay
for what somebody else wants
and can’t have.
Envy Me!
I want a
girlfriend with fake titties
or a tiger trained
not to kill
or the admiration of a talk show host
who lives off the souls
of originals.
It’s pretty fucked up
and pretty, gets ugly, fast
because
Rape is the only act
that can steal somebody’s dignity
and they
can never get that back.
Soul gone, like a golf ball
hit into the woods
by Tiger Woods.
Mascara running,
like dirty tears.
Agony
that doesn’t bring
any satisfaction.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Yes!
I touch myself
because I love myself
If I don’t,
who else
will?
It’s my soul, I speak of
and not my organ,
but by the way,
I play both
really well.
Philosophers and Poets are the best.
We create meaning,
by ourselves.
Reblogged this on Becoming is Superior to Being.
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Hey, thanks for the reblog, kenneturner!!!
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