Deep Sweet Dreams For The Comatose

 

Whatta world of fool'hearty
folly fops are we.

If I could get outta me own way, it
might make some fool's foolish day today.

Could it all be unto that gerrymandered,
shit'made map of positive resources

I found in the outhouse, outlining all the
loves faded into a mist of self-distortion,

and now I can't even bolt for door but
for my fckn heart would eXplode.

No more lady's love in the comforts of
a "home", as it were. Now the authorities

are citing for a double-indemnity on a
stone cold case having to do with stealing

penny candy in c.1959.  No comfort no comfort
in anyone's arms again.  Heart be failing and

blew the game right outta thee bathtub filled
with blinded idiot gin.  Splish'slash, he took

his fckn bath and now he's gotta lay it all out
for all to see his be'chubbied elder nakedness that

the girls ye woulda had back then adored ye,
 but now, eros with a broken wand is some

thing at which most young ladies become nauseated at,
as back in them '80s i became nauseated when some over-ripe

old broad would drunkenly grab crotch "back
in the day" at some dumb'ass party or such.

You missed too many boats, and they ain't
gonna be in your harbor for a lifetime now,

                                               no way in time for
                                                to blow wit that
                                                      be'sobered
                                                       reckoning
                                    ye couldn't see, or even sense.

                                 ( just won't fly at the good ol' hospice
                                                                             house.
                                                               Get it? )


gggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg
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