after all

what makes me so
fucken unlucky
in fucken life
in fucken love
jesus i hate it when the pathetics hit
its not even poetry this shit
could have passed in the sixties
perhaps
the problem is
the problem is
the problem is
i have been bobbing up and down in the same spot not swimming not drowning
for fuck i dont know how long
fucken years
making
the same
the same
the same
fucken mistakes
saying the same words
over and over afuckengen
the psychobabble
is right
its a pattern
but the pattern has to hit me in the face
with a dead fish
fifteen fucken times before I get it
fucken non stop slow learner
at least the train tracks have lost their gleam
that route no longer appeals
no cunt notices isolation
so thats a waste of fucken lonely time
too old to do a da levy
now everyone is poncing around being artists and poets and fucken anarchists
filling each others pockets with piss
out-quoting each fucken other
armed with their fucken non stop genius
i hope the revolution comes soon
i hope they string me up first
maybe i could be fucken lucky
after all