Small Talk

Don’t try to speak to me

I have nothing to say

Despite forcasted developmental trends

My etymological roots have decayed

Only half-formed ideas stumble lazy from these lips

Misguided thoughts

Stunted and stuffed

In this dumb trout’s throat

I left the upstream struggle

Abandoned reproductive bliss

The ocean can feed on my eggs

Put her salty creaming lips

To my neglected geno-dregs

Sick serendipity led me away

And now I’m lost in the blue-black

But intellect individualism

Is no fun with social lack

And I’m caught on a solitary, deranged fisher’s line

A hook embedded in these numb lips

YES

I’m all over numb

With no limbs to lift

No palms to operate on these hooked vocal dips

BUT if I had something to say

I could only speak with vernacular

While clutching the bottom rung of society’s ladder

Holding on tight as if my life mattered

I envision climbing higher

So one day I may rightly hang

No do-overs, please

I’ll cash in on noose-knot fame

And if I fail…

As I do

I’ll blow out my privileged brain

Rearrange my cerebral design

Hollow out the shame

I’m surprised mom didn’t throw me out

Before I developed features

But here’s my note mom

That’ll teach her

That a child ill conceived

Will wield the want to die

And I wonder will I taste the blood

Before I slip away…

Now the memories start to fade

And here I am

Crying in my sisters room again

Thinking about boys

God damn them

For making me feel worthless

Damn myself for wanting the affection

Screw instant connections

My life’s not a Craigslist missed connection

Everything is just a bad chemical reaction

And every person is just refraction

Of light, and some words

And life’s not mysterious

Cause everything’s the same,

That’s why I dream of a bullet in the brain

To erase the memories of a girl so plain

To dispose evidence of a girl with no fame

And you can use the splattered acid

To tan my tired hide

Sell it on Ebay

Or use as a seat-cover in yer ride

It’s real, BONAFIDE

AMERICAN-MADE
and naturally processed

Or…

You can stuff me

In the human school of taxidermy

Sell me as a sex-doll or a pioneer statue

I could hold a for rent sign

Outside your condo

Just make me to the mannequin

I know I’ll soon become

To the overwhelming sadness

I know I will succumb

I thought I knew something,

But I’m really

Just dumb