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Survey Of
I have my dreams,
They have to do with naked men.
I have my dreams,
They have to do with women, with their legs open.
I have my substance too,
It has to do with my biology,
Ultimately, meaningless.
Still I grasp onto my religion,
Based on the philosophy
Of overcoming religion.
And I speak to the spirits;
I’d take my medication,
But that would impose atheism,
Don’t tell me what is well!
My mom admitted I found someone else,
But insists I am her son,
My mom loves me this much.
My mom is hopping up on men,
Who could be my father,
While she is trying to be my father.
My mom is reading me stories,
Thinking about the men,
With the cock to father her.
And people are telling me,
The story isn’t so easy to follow,
It’s too poetic.
The meaning is a little hard to swallow,
Without the beginning and middle;
So many ends.
I was born to Once Upon a Time,
And I was Once Upon a Time,
So I wouldn’t have to survive what was lived.
The ends weren’t so final back then,
Just how I coped.
Sure enough it would start back up,
New day,
The slates wiped clean.
A clean place to lay,
Being raped by my failure,
Honorable rape though.
It meant I wouldn’t have to say ‘yes’
To the world of softness,
With its convenient insulin shots.
