Just Give ‘Em Something To Talk About

I have always been
A carry-on
The sort of
Convoy to the mad
The thrill-seeker to the thrill-seeker

I have no definitive
Style
I have no definitive
Substance
I go where they take me

I am where I am
Needed
As I’m needed nowhere
And everywhere
I am the mouth you fuck when there are no mouths available

I am the error parts in your trial and
Errors
I have no money, no bourgeois
Clothes, no grand
Crusade

I have lived no tragedy so I have no tragedy to tell but my life itself
I am the property of my parents who in turn are property of their parents
And we have land but we could only grow
So little
I have no backers so I wrote in the dark

Places, I wrote in light
Places, I wrote beside the
Champions of the city, under carriage of the
Carriers, above the
Lovers of the day, at tombstones of those

I do not know but bet
They have more interesting lives that took
More interesting deaths
Than mine
And all that is mine later

Just give ’em something, anything to talk about
So I watch
Butterflies sputter and cry, sly, wash
Cutlery and rye
Splinters and it flies– like the idiom for the idiots

But howl is only howl for the manic
And murder only murdery won’t solve
And our underbred underliner
Iris red and bleeding from
Reading– I

Couldn’t care less so I
Push past their nonce and I kiss
The vertical horizons
They beaut but they basic
They coo’ but they co’ny

They, the light of the angler
The best of the barg’ners
The curse like in cursive letters to the laconic, and the blah blah blahs,
And you ask
What has gotten to me

Life
Life has gotten to me
And age, and restlessness,
And these sinful beverages
That make me hate

Myself
And my hate
That had always been a tower
Unclim-babble
Now hosts its own

Towers and geysers, and curses
In cheap
Disguise
Like the cheap
Perfume of my ex-lover’s new lover

I could scale them with two steps less
I have the answers and these answers
Will sink with my
Boat that is
Sinking

The world moves without me
I’m here, trying to consider
All my options to a sure-fire
Sprint
And the options are scarce

Even the girls we made fun of for their
Poor tastes in matching skirts in college, they
Already found love and have
Tied the knot
And birthed

Even the boys we bullied for their
Bloated sense of worth in unmarked vlogs
Already graced more towns
And raised more
Children and pets than I ever had

What is so inspiring about life is that
All life is leeching
And all life is frailty
So I try to be a good fuck today because tomorrow I’m afraid I’d be
Disposable

I have no memory of
How I became who I am and how I am now
Just old photographs next to
Stamps my mother has collected
For me

I have no feelings for
The shifty motel rooms I’ll check, come Monday
Just a thirst that needs
To be
Ridden

Have no excitement about
The car rides, the bus rides, the shared crosswalk, the emptying hallways, the busy streets and their
Vendors and vending machines
It is a job day
So it feels like a job day

I try to reconnect
With all the soulsitters and meet
With the friends I haven’t seen in
Years and we watch
The Death Cure or some other noisy movie, because any noise will do

And we compress all the time we
Lost into
Time we have together
Over alcohol, over uppers, over guests, over movies that for us
Matter

But my insomnia
It keeps me
Up like that noisy neighbor and their noisy
Drilling of the wall
I make a mental note to burn their house down one day

That’ll give me
A big red headline
My face on the
News
The Bored Arsonist Arsoning Because Bored

 
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