Sure, you’re a poet
Look at you
Just the right amount
Of fake self-hatred
Mixed with ample
Doses of vanity
Disguised as
Openness and sincerity
Good for you
Pretending to suffer
Not having the slightest clue
About shame
About loss and pain
Roll up your sleeves
So that everyone can see
Your ornamental,
Self-inflicted, little scars
While you throw back drinks
With Bandini and me
Don’t do it. Don’t wish for it.
Don’t accept it.
Don’t be ok with it.
Between pain and indifference
I am that classified
Left-wing psycho
With the label on
My front pocket
Asking you
Not to dismiss this
Not to dismiss this
We are on the heavy end
Of a tipping scale
Between two polar thoughts
And the fact
That our interests
Will never coincide
Is the catalytic schism
Dipping this apple
In cyanide
Don’t just accept pain
Embrace pain
It may not feel great
But it’s a far cry from un-good
And it tastes
Just like hemlock
