Monday, July 26

Gutter Blues

Brimming near-over is the cup of which I quaff
More than my fill of sorrow. I may happen to laugh
Now and then, when my pain chances to subside.
You may look at me with scorn and deride
My prejudice and paranoia and compulsions, but
I look you straight in the eyes with revulsion.
Why not pour some more salt in my wound?
Just take a pinch and gather 'round to
Scoff and build your towering triumph over my meagre soul.
Enjoin yourselves to kick me while I lie, not whole
In body or in spirit -- heaven forfend I make a stand!
But I damned-well will fulfill all of my demands.
Let me close my eyes and leave me be,
I'll open them when I'm ready, eventually.

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