Tuesday, Sept. 11, 2001
There’s a gray hole
in my -
shall we call it a soul?
Is that what it is?
A soul?
There’s a gray hole
in my
soul
where you ripped
out my -
shall we call it a
heart?
Do souls have
hearts?
There’s a gray hole
in my
soul
where you ripped
out my
heart.
But you and I,
we shall not
speak
of that tonight.
You and I
are four hundred miles
apart
tonight.
While you, you
are safe behind your locked
door,
safe
with your unanswered
phone,
I am drowning.
Drowning.
I am filling in the gray hole
in my
soul
where you ripped
out my
heart
with vodka
and cranberry.
Telling the man
on the barstool
beside me
the story of the gray hole
in my
soul
where you ripped
out my
heart
not to mention the
restraining orders
the locked doors and
windows
and the many many
many
unanswered
phone calls.
He says he has no
sympathy.
So when the paramedics
get here,
I am going to ask them
to treat me
first.
Because who is suffering
drowning
and suffering
more -
me, with the gray hole
in my
soul
where you ripped
out my
heart,
or him,
with his little
bloody nose?
Milestones
the commune's scratch 'n sniff look at last year's office potluck
Opportunities
Pants a Capitalist
Free Virus Baggies
Take a Kitten, Please
the commune book selections
the commune's Bear in Rearview
the commune's Big Book of Duke
Faces of the commune
the commune 100: Leaders and Revolutionaries
the commune 100: Traitors and Noodledicks
FAQ Shwartz |
Site Map's Somewhere in the Glovebox |
Search In Vain |
Contract Ick
Privacy Police |
Terms of Gary Busey |
Reprints & Persimmons |
Press Eject Now
in DAD'S basement
sometimes/i wish i/was the FONZ/make believe/dad was/mr. C/he would give/fatherly/
advice/instead of/calling me/shithead
Hairy Walnuts
Maybe I was just feeding the cat his own hairballs
over and over again, every night
But how was I buying big bags of my own cat's hairballs
in supermarkets all across town?
