I always knew what the deal was,
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
