I wish my Life
were a CD-
I'd find track 21,
hit REPEAT,
and listen
to all the dumb shit
I used to say:
proclamations of Empire
from the once-and-future king
of his own demise.
Insanity's never been a problem.
Lives, like songs, create themselves,
only to be discovered
by blubbering fools.
Why can't they end
the way they begin,
a sputtering,
The Big Bang,
perfect,
without a scratch
or skip,
mysteries for generations
to come to solve,
just before they push STOP?