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A left-handed circuit breaker

Fiddling with a midget...

Or the spectacle of Finnish tobogganists

On safari.

Give me a moment while I regroup.

This is how I feel when speaking with you.

Seven Polish transients on their way to Havana

Could not with all their gaiety convince me to reappear on the stage of the

Variety hour of your sublime self-flagellation.

I have attached organizational tabs to you psyche.

Turn to the one labeled "Cathectic".

I am a victim.

I am a victim.

I am a victim.

How many times have I read these words

Scribbled on the foreheads of

Those who jangle change in their cups,

Open the doors for me at Wendy's,

Intone the same old tired bullshit that excuses their need to take an active role in the

Spiritual reality of their lives,

Who wear the fuzzy cast-off hippy-dippy psychological equivalent of a

Fashion blunder over their wounded counter-culturalist egos,

And deny their prodigious power as humans to step to it,

Break out the whoop-ass, get down and dirty,

Let go, Windex® their eye sockets, give the maid at the local Howard Johnson® a go at their trashed hotel room of a mind, and

Laugh at the dizzy duck pond

Bread-crumb roller derby

That is being alive in this world?

Fire all your cylinders, dude--

You ain't getting anywhere.

You advertise your angst and your

Lethargy and your

Twisted desires and your

Inability to fit in and

All your other kinky issues,

Like fun and fruity Kool-Aid®

Shot from a sprinkler system,

For all the kids to play in--

You big drip.

Get over yourself.

Just fix it, for Christ's sake,

And make sure not to use poison,

Though you ladle it out to all your customers.

You'd think that business must be good,

But you're just a haunted old revolutionary who

Can't find anybody to buy into your tired agenda.

Go ahead and write your five-hundred volumes,

And miss me-- go ahead and miss me,

Because I could give a care.

Because I'm busy thinking "big fat deal" and

Musing that

Suddenly life's fun, and

Giving Goldilocks a few lessons on

Making off with the porridge

By avoiding the freaks dressed up like bears.

Keep your piss away from my watering hole--

I'm out.

I'm circling the herd for a meal.

I'm following the emotionally stunted girl with the hem line

With my camera,

And no-- I'm not thinking of her that way, you old lech.

I've got more than a night of happiness to give

Goddamned everybody on this planet--

Or so it seems right now--

And I've got my undying devotion set to detonate,

Almost immediately...

And you won't jade me.

Tomorrow the world stops, and

I'm gonna start my hustle,

And people are gonna be appreciated

Like they ain't never been appreciated before,

Come death or high water,

or Jimmy Hoffa's boys trying to jam a screwdriver

Into the side of my head.

I'm gonna raise a toast to the Golden Retreivers of

Our race,

And join them for a ball and tousle.

And bark.

And get muddy.

You beat the rest of that dead horse, why don't you?

I'm gonna turn some of this impulsivity into a legacy.