All the good deeds in the world have been done-cashed in
Like a check, I am using the pen my grandfather gave me,
Blue with a flashlight on the end of it. Saturday you came
And we went to the grocery store and ordered salami from
A red-headed hooker whose mind was somewhere else,
Probably on fucking a man in a yellow suit, who can’t sing
With a damn.
At a J. Geil’s concert, my aunt sits between an old woman
Who looks like a duck and has a bad hair perm, ignoring
The stench of too much perfume. I am calm in my mannerism,
Trying not to become one of the faceless voids in the crowd,
Trying to be polite, trying not to cast myself out.
People act like
Zombies without an original thought in their head. I wonder if
They like it. I wonder if their moods change from day to day,
If they are happy about their life, if they are proud of what they
I am not proud, I am disgusted, self-loathing, and insecure,
Wallowing in my own self-pity of acceptance. I try to fit in and give
Up, force myself to do good deeds. You say I am ridiculous,
That I can’t see past a brick wall.