life seems to be a big gamble,
don’t want to rent this apartment much longer,
worried i have to be in nyc to be with one i love,
worried the world economy will collapse,
the world looks fraudulent,
the world smells fraudulent,
feels like the end is near, the end is near,
trumpets will blow and angels will sing,
seven candlesticks will become liquid in a second,
i feel like one of the crazies, the paranoid, the troubled,
hyper-sensitive to the
buzz of a light fixture and sound of a sniffle
seems like nothing will work
yet it’s all working out just okay
it seems i don’t know myself as well as i thought
it seems much is out of my control
it seems i have to answer to more than i want to
it seems i’m not very happy doing what i do
and all i want to be is happy doing what i do
is everyone else happy doing what they do?
i’m worried about the answer to that question
because it might be a ‘yes’ and mine might be a ‘no’
i think it is a no.
i think i am in the wrong chicken coop.
about the only reason i’m still in it
is because it offers me protection from everything bad outside,
it’s a home, a hen house, a house halfway between hell and your highness—
king of kings, alpha and omega, first and last,
all which was and all which is to come—
feels a lot closer to hell
and i should be more scared of the devil than i am.