self-induced ego death leaves me
frazzled and breathless and impatient
for the moment, that direct moment,
when i give in
mere annoyances, sick minds, dirty socks
and no sense of self
nothing, nothing at all, nothing
sticks out
drivin 65 outta town with nowhere to be but where i wanna be
vacations from your endless vacation,
a life of saturday evenings where the sun
burns a hundred cigarette flames yet
never sets
you toss and turn and dream
wafting through punk rock mixtures
but sleep doesn’t come easy like it used to
like everything used to
drivin 75 outta town with nowhere to be but where i wanna be
giggles over filtered synthetic powdered coffee,
it shouldn’t be this way
like when someone says
ain’t ain’t a word
existence is a chemical reaction
reacting within itself, coexisting
but don’t get too zen about it
no one likes a smug bastard
whatcha gotta do is get off your atlas,
start building your own roads
brick by brick by brick
until you disappear into the nadir like you always dreamed
and you’ll be
drivin 85 outta town with nowhere to be but where you wanna be