I always knew what the deal was,

even when I was your kid

 your feelings, arghaaaah,

   your feelings, something about

your feelings, fuck your feelings

  you were my teacher

  slut face whore mouth slut cunt bitch

  I’m under the impression I should thank you or sumthin’

  after all you did rip me over to Ireland

  In Harp Drunk Deceptive nights

  hurt by my poetic heartbreaks

  how like an adoptive mother

  one more about feelings more than things

  your ignorance was meaningless

  I owe you nothing

    no essays, papers, homework

  for I can feel now

  my heroes have shifted

  listen to meee!

  I’m writing bullshit!

  look at me writing bullshit!

  I believe I’m a beatnick bullshit

  I have beatnicked the bashful poem

  beaten beatnick’s brains out

  look at me, listen to me, hear me, smell me

  shit on me!

  I am your God!

           are you responsible for this

  you can’t be responsible, for me, no!

  you’re famous in my eyes

  I adore you

  I wanna be you

  I want your age, your job, your children,

and I want to feel you intellect,

  rub against my balls

  sometimes I avoided you 

  sometimes you intimidated me

  but I still looked up to you

  So as I lie here in my bed

  Drunk

  Stoned

  Naked

  Polluted

  I disregard you,

  and realize that you’re gonna want to die someday

yesterday

  tomorrow

  and though you may live on

  you will someday

  and eventually drag me down with you

January 2005 Vancouver