I need I need

I need to chill the fuck out
I need this grapefruit soda that tastes like the greyhound
that I had six sweet years ago when someone saw me writing
and I was sitting on the sticky edge of a barstool
in the hour before happy hour when I said silly things to the page
and spent more time saying hello than goodbye
I need on this drifting day
for the sun to highlight all the motes
and for the cats to sit at home in curvy asymmetries
and for this cafe to be empty except for the nerdy boys
swigging coffee and soaking up the digital stream
I need to feel like the burden of creative output
is an egoic fantasy, spun out by other falsehoods
like the statistics on unsolved homicides in California
or the corporate verses private solar panel issue
or the subverted loneliness of urban society
I need to chill the fuck out
Tuck away The Secret (TM) and the The Moment (TM)
And just chill the fuck out
Bikram, bite me
Deepak, chill the fuck out
Pema, step off
Jesus, good lord, get off my grill
(And if you think this rant is about you, get a clue)
All I want from the day, from any day
Is enough peace to distinguish my thoughts and feelings
From yours, not literally yours, but others
To ask independently, what do you mean, styled object?
Styled object, are you the cause of this frenzy?
Your substance is derivative, and before that degrades
We will make you new again
I need to leave
You, literally you, unsettled
Asking
What you need


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Church St,San Francisco,United States