I’m a genius in fool’s clothing
Loathing the world
As it corrupts
Everything I care about
Remembering a decade ago
When we were getting buried
For talking about the changes
That need to be made
To make the world a better place
They called it the underground
That authentic sound
The real
The deep
Shit
That they dug up
Throw it into pop culture
The kind of stench you can’t avoid
But you want to forget
So you talk to your therapist
Count to ten
Deep breaths
The scent makes you wretch
Now you’re diagnosed with illness
Stretched
Out in a hospital bed
Waking from the dead
With your eyes open
Looking around you
Seeing all the sickness
And that’s when you ask for the morphine
So you can lose yourself
And have the scene fade away
Sated
Filled with all you could take
You wake in your home
Happy … Continue reading