Thursday, March 4, 2010

Shell 2: Nephew of Shell


Shell 2: Nephew of Shell

burn like the 4th of July
cut through the patriot sky
of the daydream I wrestled through
Saturday afternoon

I couldn't leave it alone
just before bed I ate like a pro
so my kidneys are letting me know
what a scar my body's become

and I'm a glutton for punishment
my shoulder's lose pose and my gut wins
I never learn, I never learn, I never take the pills
I never break the heart
break the heart-

burn like the rash in my thighs
choke down this chocolate pie
like I haven't had sustenance Since 1968
I try to feed the wrong 'til it's right
I try to find my nobility in the sushi from last night

there are times in my war against time
when I wish that I was eighteen
and my body didn't make a sound every time I bent down
and my dreams still looked like dreams

It's not that I'm not grateful for what I have
and it's not that I'm not proud of what I've done,
it's just that I'm not sure that I recognize
the beetle that I've become.

And I'm a glutton for punishment
my shoulder's lose poise while my gut wins
I never learn, I never take the pills
I never shake the need
I never look too far ahead or break Speed-

bumps like what's under my eyes
bulge from the burger and fries
that I'm constantly pushing into the space where nothing fits
I thought the worst was to feel worthless,
but the worst is when a man forgets his purpose.
It's metamorphosis, it's not quite hell...
a bottling up in a torturous shell

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Kafka's Gregor Samsa..