fat magic

im not mad
im just disappointed
this poem was a tired phrase
before i wrote it and
coined it

ive developed a bad habit of
expecting and assuming
til my face starts blooming
and its red

dont be sad
be mad
be a man
be an angry angry sports fan
be a hungry hungry orphan
that just cant stand it
that never asked to be born
onto this planet...

(they didnt plan it)
get it?

lets get to work
and burn this "church"
with these "hands" of "gold"
that i wash for hours on end
these fingernails that i screep scribble and
scrape underneath them
even though i know
invocation: ill never be clean again(!!!)

not after what they did to me..
not after they made me sit through
that episode of law and order
that made all three of my nipples throw up in disgust

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck.

i bust my crust
while i lust the dust
and hope and pray
that wishing can eliminate
this chronic pain

but it cant
and it
hope floats: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0119313/

im just some guy
and this world is just some girl
and depending on how my circulation flows
beneath these kohls clothes
that could be a wonderful wonderful wonderful blessing
or a second asshole
who knows

no one really understands anything on their own
let alone themselves
so leave yourselves alone for once
in your miserable miserable lives
and become a jubilant jubilant housewife
of the mind
and feather dust my heart til it shines

and shines

and shines