poetry

tired

​i’ll answer your question with a question

my opening statement is thus

why do we insist on hurting ourselves

and do things that we know will harm us

we drink and we smoke and we fight and we fuck

we prick and we scratch

and some of us cut

activities of still-greater degrees of gross indecency but you turn your inquiring minds and ask me to speak

and i can’t

not for everyone

but on my end i’ve got vocal cords in fine working order

and i know why i keep on denying myself sleep

and indulge in this compulsion to hasten my mortal defeat

because i’m tired

and i don’t know what’s real

the glossy posters in the old school house entreated me to use

the scientific theory

so i test

how much can i take

how much can i stand

how long before i can’t

stand

i measure

and prod

can’t remember

sometimes, if all of it’s real or just some parts

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