Just found that one of my exes got married. Time to re-evaluate my life. I guess it’s OK. This is a partly fiction poem on my general mental vicinity. My head’s generally in shape but the details are all messed up. We’re having the next Open Mic thing next Thursday, March 5th. Should be good.

Entropy

I have my own apartment
I buy my own shoes
It feels like I’m a grown up
Yet everyday I lose

There’s geckos on the ceiling
Roaches on the loose
A rat lived in my kitchen
Till I stopped buying food

My walls are soaked with water,
Dyed blue and grey and used
My toilet doesn’t flush that well
I’m confronted by my poo

We’re at war with the jungle
And every day we lose
I’m surrounded by animals
They take me for a fool

The dogs show me their testicles,
The cats pee on my car
I see them mate in public
I hear them fight and spar

Polecats run across my roof
Bugs occupy my boxes
Mosquitos buzz inside my net
Something eats my soxes

There are things I’m scared to open
Doors I don’t unlock
Everything is broken
I hear my neighbors talk

When I go out of town
To try and get away
The bathroom floor is always wet
Poop problem’s just the same

While I’m there I break my car
Quite often in the rain
The spare tire has got a flat
The bill will be insane

If I get back home
In one piece on three wheels
I’m still living in bedlam
Scrounging every meal

Trishaw drivers cut me off
Security guards say no
The cops they take my license
But let that bugger go

My paperwork is all fucked up
My desktop is a mess
I have no fucking money
The girl needs a new dress

And if I try to take her out
Her friends all want a ride
They’re killing my suspension
I can’t fit eight inside.

When I go out to the bar
Everyone is broke
My credit card’s on fire
My wallet smells of smoke

I don’t want to look a scrub,
So I buy them a round
I step up to the ATM
I hear my mother frown

My grandfather’s in hospital
A long prolonged decay
I haven’t heard him speak in years
Achchi prays and prays

My auntie’s inconsolable,
Her children went away
One of them died too young
The others took a plane.

My cousin is a total spaz,
He bites and chews and gnaws
I tried to teach him tennis
He hit me in the balls

I don’t know where to end this piece
The list goes on and on
Everything is all fucked up
And everything is wrong

But if you see a child that says
‘I can’t wait to grow up’
Smack them hard across the face
And tell them of my luck

Posted on Tuesday, February 24th, 2009 in Art, Poetry, Sex, indi.