Not thinking

Cigarette burns and black outs.

The beast of benevolence chokes

On me.

All tied down

And forgetful.

Heroin dreams and children's screams.

I've come from below

And there I'll stay.

I'm a cripple that can walk.

A one of a kind you might say,

The Jesus of degenerates.

I watch with a criminal stare as

The insects flutter about.

Cockroaches giving birth to the burden

Of the world.

I am no better, yet better than you

I hope.

I haven't thought of a damn thing in


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