when you don’t care
about all the shit
you’re supposed to care about,
all that crap you’re expected to do
by all those folks who respect
and love you—the family,
the team, those members of the machine
that usher your ass along,
buying and selling, singing that song
about working or doing or accomplishing
something worth something
to someone who’s somebody,
someone who wants you,
who needs you, or would like you
to do what you were put hear to do
by god or who knows who—
to perform your duty, your job, your destiny—
but the problem is you
know it’s all smoke and mirrors.
you wonder why everyone tries or
seems to give a fuck—not you,
you can see through the shit,
and you’ve decided, now,
at least for today,
nobody can tell you what to do.
you have given up
on their bullshit golden rule—
do what you think everyone else thinks
you should do. fuck that.
you don’t want to play that game
today. you just try to be yourself,
the one nobody sees
sitting in the darkened room,
the drunken fool talking to himself,
keeping track of his breaths,
yearning to be loved—and left
alone—even after his death.
funny, boys and girls, man
is the strangest goddamn animal.
do you know an asshole like this?