08-10-2013, 12:10 AM
My whole life reeks of sorrow,
but I've learned to enjoy the smell of my own farts.
Only others sicken me
as they get closer;
with their generic music, and half-hearted digressions
into art.
Is it just me?
Or are there actually forces I can fall back on,
the Devil, the government, some
new world order,
that explain everything; assuring me none of this
is my fault?
My door opens outward like the Dude's.
I stand there, and look up at the stars;
you can't see them in the city like you can here.
Nobody ever watches my room.
I could shit right in the doorway if I wanted to,
but instead I just take a piss.
but I've learned to enjoy the smell of my own farts.
Only others sicken me
as they get closer;
with their generic music, and half-hearted digressions
into art.
Is it just me?
Or are there actually forces I can fall back on,
the Devil, the government, some
new world order,
that explain everything; assuring me none of this
is my fault?
My door opens outward like the Dude's.
I stand there, and look up at the stars;
you can't see them in the city like you can here.
Nobody ever watches my room.
I could shit right in the doorway if I wanted to,
but instead I just take a piss.