Fucked Up

Etheridge Knight’s poem

Lord I’m gone I left myself I’ve packed up

and split and I with no way to make me

come back and nowhere the world is full

faded fallen black     coal dirt darkens

whiskey death dead dying and diving down to

the next bar taking myself away stealing

my own smiles and laughter and solitary

computer screen derived midnight sighs-


Fuck Cobain and music and cars

drifting in the street and buildings

and rats and dogs and cats and

all the animals that roam the city

fuck cohn-bendit and focault fuck chomsky

fuck assange and anonymous fuck technocracy

fuck alcohol and wet fuck pills fuck molly

fuck obama and boehner and paul fuck

the internet and the digital revolution

fuck the whole muthafuckin thing

all i want now is myself back

so reality can sing


The Night is Cold and Passionate

Not everyday is an excuse to create

I’m a man of my word

But not when it comes to addiction

Scum of the Earth

Master of the Universe

Simultaneous presence

Of the incompatible

Which is why each moment

Rips the brain to shreds

The more I feel

The less I know

Until all is black,

Black as snow