Make Your Own Fun (First Draft)
I yelled at myself in
the dark morning, with
weary eyes and a wearier
heart, “make your own
fun,” without chemicals
silencing brain waves;
sleep the enemy of hope;
every day an over/under;
“make your own fun,”
you fucking idiot, you
used to call evil bastards
by their face value, sing in
their ears of their ugliness,
now you are them, now
you relate to them, sick,
sicko, sycophant, stuck in a
puddle ‘o’ ants, sick, sicko,
sycophant, refuse to honor
your own plans, “make
your own fun,” you breathily
whispered as you closed
off the world, shutting
your eyes, “I will tomorrow”
you thought as you lie
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Reminder, I released a new chapbook in April. Please check it out.
eclecticismgunfight 