i was a little freaked out by the way they asked me to adjust to their cold demeanor so they threw my wallet in the path of the bus. Dry ass corporate fucks wrung out & run circles round the rest of us just nodding in the rain. Thinking there's better than this, i'm sure there's probably less pain on the south side. So we get up & move. You know, it would behoove us to stand our ground one of these times. Like Argentina, Mexico & Indonesia singing "No, no sir, this is my daddy's land, you'll have to rent a favela." Or come back where you came from, rubbing two coins together under your nose until it makes you- I reconnected with an old girlfriend & she said "where's your head been?" & I said "lonely & dumb." I made her sweat she said "I need you to cum." I feel alone inside my body; company makes it fun. I need help. Mostly no one's noticing my manic juices flowing so it's easy not to eat or sleep and keep the poems going. Either it hurts to stop or hurts to get started; either way I'm pretty sure I was raised to be retarded like my mom's medications makes her dumber every day. She thought I was going on vacation when I moved away. And my dad gets mad, says shit that just embarrasses her. I wonder if the rhythmic pattern of his words molded my character & broke something inside I didn't notice. Something small & fragile with exponential consequences. He made me feel so small that growth was used as my defense. The kind of slight that stays in you. I'm not gay Dad, I just like thinking my attitude's bad plus I suck dick & have a lot of opinions. But I don't honestly want to die I want to be left alone & be around you people all the time. & you could come back from Viet Nam & live in the states. Is that so hard? You made it so easy when you said you loved me too & then you packed up again & moved. The land is long.