See You In the Next Life

There was a time when I was
insouciant
the amount of fucks I gave
were counted in negative numbers
and I could internally quote my favourite comedian
“So what if you’re offended, nothing happens,
it’s not like you’re going to say
damn I was offended, I was hurt
and then I woke up with cancer”

and I’m sure there’s onlookers with a sense of
Schadenfraude at my inability
to swagger around with the big dick energy I took
for granted, thinking that because I could write
in a way that hits
I was bulletproof
because I could turn a phrase from bifurcated words
and make them into something filled
with sex, passion, desire
make the reader want to be the narrator
or the protagonist

write so you could taste my self loathing
feel my introspection
possibly even my joy

I could walk on water
a self proclaimed God of Fuck
and God I wish I gave no fucks the way I used to
but my marauders words have hurt too many and the spill over is
I hurt myself too
thinking  I’ve had so much in life hurt me
somehow I’m immune to pain
or caring what others think

and it isn’t really the others I care about
it’s you

and I torched it with lies and pyromania
the self doubt that eats at you
despite all of the affirmations
that cuts me the deepest

well it doesn’t even matter any more

tell your story
I’ll slink back into the darkness
wait for the plug to be pulled
and never touch a pen again