I used to babysit my babysitters inner thigh
I used to work at being a paper boy to play at getting high,
I used to steal comics from the comic shop when I was under
Their emp-loy. I used to work.
(Now I work and write.) and write some
Used to chop meat at
I used to work
used to work Shell
on Hastings in hell
or back on d’rock
at Esso on Blackmarsh Road
But now I don’t!
Cause they closed that place down!
But I used to Work!
I used to get Around!
I used to Work!
At a factory!
As a bus boy!
and a cook!
Now I read and
type shit up for cash
which means im
but ever happy,
and always busy,
and that’s the laugh!
I used to Work! Ha!
I lost my sober footing for a moment
I was talking about work and how it feels but why don’t I just describe it.
Its like the beginning of a good movie;
Edward Scissorhands or Fight Club.
It is that kind of work; the kind that becomes effortless
and doubtlessly demarcates its success
not in itself
but the love it gives
to our childhood or
young adult brains.
Like Clay Davis said in every season of The Wire.
I used to give a shit that a monk set himself on fire.
I used to care
I used to cringe
But now I laugh
And buy a binge
I used to be a poet now
ill be lucky to get compared
to King, not even Poe, ho!
What the hell happened, yo?
Yo yo yo !
I gave up my language for a fashion budget,
I gave in to the sick beat without any provocation.
I stopped reading in between trips.
Which was Wrong…
I don’t give a shit!
Fuck your mother with a fiery crucifix on the stairway to hell!
Fuck us all with prods and rape our carcass’s!
I almost forgot!
I Almost remembered!
Oh Fuck! That’s all wrong!
Change it to Forget! Forget! Forget!
I can no longer use a Swiss Army Knife!
I am not able to physically open it
So that is a sign