Piss on this nonsense,
You can’t make believe
with something in a constant state of sleep,
wakes when you’re not paying attention,
a surprise every time.
Wet dreams, drowning in sweat,
thinking “is this the best it will ever get??”
Can’t conceive of another way to take you on,
but it’s all a joke anyway.
These tattoos won’t dissolve,
when we thought it was a good idea,
and now that’s gone.
Mistakes. Pulled skin.
Tightly absorbed and interweaved.
This feeling almost pulsates, without origin, without a home,
cause you got no cause for alarm,
just the call of infallible silence.
Your head swims in it.
Here among the crowd, the people marching like ants
walking the mall,
a dedication I’ll never understand.
We aren’t alike- that’s cool.
One more tab under the tongue,
fools, everyone of you.
I am nothing like that,
breaking a pattern I never understood.
And it really makes no difference.
We all march sooner than later.