i don’t give a fuck
everybody dies
some hit by a truck
some shot twixt the eyes
others hang themselves
some while jerking off
some infect the world
with just a simple cough
so you see
worrying about me
is just a waste of time
who can blame a guy
pissed off at the world
for shooting up a school
and taking out these fools
if only i’d been hit
i should’ve been a shield
cause living ain’t for shit
and nothing ever heals
chorus
whist’ling down the hall
a spring in every step
i blossom in the fall
awaken with some pep
my mirror loaded up
with inward-facing praise
the summer swollen shut
forgotten in a haze
i’m your
21st century girl
i’m the
future of the free world
students passing by
slow and steadily
fresh-faced alibis
potential guarantees
all the kids in school
were putty in my hands
i never lost her cool
i always had it planned
chorus
what does it matter
i wipe off my mascara
it keeps running down my face
in front of a camera
the satellite antenna
the public feels my grace
suddenly smiling
with fake reassurance
there’s nothing wrong inside
get me home now (get me home now)
i’ll never be brave
i want to run and hide
all that i know
all that they told me
is that i’m the prettiest girl
they gave me a sash and a tiara
and all that i know
all that they told me
is that i’m the prettiest girl
i saw a boy dying
a boy from my math class
he always sat up front
and there he was lying
in freshly cut grass
a victim of the hunt
they asked me his name
i didn’t know his name
i didn’t know their names
chorus
blessed newcomer,
we await your sign
you who embody
the gift of divine.
sacred mask,
send us your kin
so that our path
to transcendence
may begin.
creatives aren’t meant to push buttons and pull levers
they are meant to construct new meanings for buttons and draw levers doing silly things
some people push buttons all day
and are happy; others push buttons
and stare out of the window and pine for the outdoors and think about the other projects they’re working on
we’re all creative in our own ways
we all sprout from stardust
we all love the beating of our own hearts and the inhalation of breath
we all sing songs in the shower
to unseen lovers and grandstands of adoring fans
and some of us stare at computer screens in offices
and we sing in our head
a tablespoon of coconut oil
slipped off my finger into
the frying pan; the remnants
rubbed into the dry creases
of my toiling fingers.
catapulted frozen vegetables
to distance myself from
splattering oil, a wooden spoon
bought from safeway
to stir the warming victuals.
normally, chicken presides
over this court of cauliflower,
but, bereft of poultry,
instead a substitute of
polish sausage, sliced
like hot dogs in mac & cheese.
it was fucking delicious.
small talk on an elevator.
suddenly we’ve become
engrossed about the weather
and the sports teams
and golf. golf. everyone
plays golf, and they talk
about it like it is
a nuanced game.
i sigh (in my head)
and write poems to no one.
do you remember me,
winding through
labyrinthine hallways
to attend your audition?
it’s okay if you don’t;
a brief speck in a life
met with many faces.
such investment goes
into passing people you
kind of know on the street.
in a mote of time
a thousand calculations
beyond the wisdom of robots
cycles through your head,
and by the time you
come to a conclusion–
it’s too late. they’re gone.
and you keep walking.
it’s such bullshit that
you make me feel better than
a bunch of cookies