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
