tell me who to call

if you haven't figured it out, my poetry is pretty much whatever the hell slips into my head at any moment...

People used to tell me I was special

And like any lie,

The more people who choose to see

The great and powerful green wizard

Are blind to the worn out fart underneath the rug.

I wish she could see me now.

So far removed

From the fountain of life

Where I spied with the lampposts

As her silhouette plunged into

The redeeming waters,

A baptism I was too scared

To offer myself.

 

“Please Mrs. Avery, I just gotta talk to her
I'll only keep her a while
Please Mrs. Avery, I just wanna tell 'er goodbye”

 

The doctor stands in the street

Holding a scythe,

Iridescent in the moonlight.

He beckons me with the bell

I can tell by the frequency

He is irritated.

The monster is coming for me.

He lumbers up the stairs

A shadow so dark

It illuminates the night.

Some will be praised for their passion

As they lop out strings of paint

And insanity for the masses.

A man in a blue uniform

Praised for his anger at the world,

Pointed toward the thin man

With the moustache.

I have drank my rage

Long from flasks and bottles,

And all I have known

Is rejection and shame.

We are all angry little men

Standing tall on rocks

Coaxing the world

To take its best shot

As we load the revolver

Once more.