deeply broken

life hasn’t changed

in a bad way

but, it is

all a joke anyway

isn’t it?

so chuckle, giggle

with me

from afar then

get yr gun, get them

bullets

then

shoot that star

so by the time it falls

i’ll be able to make

a wish on it

i’ll wish for thicker skin,

i’ll wish for broken

condoms

to mend

and big condominiums

to at once come to an

end

and the wave of gentrification

to wash away as we surf it

to oblivion

and the black folk laugh at

us then cuss that we are

half-breed faggots

which, is, alas

better than

being maggots

in the dead

decomposed flesh

wounds

don’t hurt as much

as the sting left

by the absence

of your touch

wish they made

band-aids

for the broken hearted

wish i was amongst

the departed

but suicide would be

not only retarded

(as in slow) but

redundant

cause i am already dead

or at least:

no longer living;

once upon a time (like a year ago) i

seriously thought i’d die from old

age at twenty-four

now i realize life

not lived

is synonymous with death

so

be

it

yet

still

i feel

your hot kiss

on these cold

lips-

so, pick your nose

then pick up three

poker chips:

one blue, one white, one red

or tattoo the american flag

(in colour) on your former

lover

and make a bet

throw those dice

in my eyes

hope that all three

of them land on

six

then with the money you win

buy me a quick fix

and cry tears of regret

that a quick fix

could never mend

the deep wound

of the deeply

broken.