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.

2 thoughts on “Upward Mobility

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