Here I am today standing in a puddle of geese
droppings, wolf spit and beheaded dandelions
somewhere on the east coast of England
being humiliated by my lack of passion
appetite for life
desire to understand
or listen to another human being
my thoughts are never circular
rectangular
polygonal
rhomboid
four dimensional
but they are definitely always square
and linear
badly organised
with no depth to them
a dreary
unnecessary
drab
smear
of
grey
see the problem is that i don't do detail
and by neglecting the small things
i neglect everything
my perfect building is created from the top
down
that is exactly how i view life
hierarchical
everyone beneath me
because i am incredible
suave
sophisticated
intelligent
greater in all ways
if there was a god
then he would be in my image
but of course there is no god
so there is no need to mention it
i know everything that there is to know
even things i don't know
i know anyway
because everything is easy to figure out
all it is is...
even though i don't like what i do
i will always do it
because it is safe
and easy
and normal
and painless
like morphine injected straight into my brain
like three diazepam tablets a day
soulless
vacuum
of post-modern day man
and i don't have to stand out from the crowd
because even though i see myself as a leader
a ruler
a dictator who everyone loves
i like to be popular
more than anything else
money allows me that one privilege
but it isn't really a privilege
not if you think about it logically
because if you are smarter than everyone else
or if you were born into a lot of money
why shouldn't you have your 'privilege'
and enjoy it?
so what if people are starving in the world
if they really are?
i mean i'm fine
i'm doing alright
and that's all that really matters
isn't it?
i like to stack my coins in rows
and look at the monetary figures in my bank
because it turns me on
i've tried to read books of literature
a long time ago
but it didn't do much for me
because i knew it all anyway
been there done that got the t-shirt
i get up when my boss tells me
because he is the one who pays me
i won't rock the boat
even when he takes the piss out of me
because i need my job
because it gives me the security
of being able to sneer at other people
who are less well-off than me
it's really a game that i play
i hate communism
i love capitalism
i don't believe in conspiracies
i believe in mainstream science
i don't believe in religion
because i am the selfish gene
i have fallen for the current lie
just like my ancestors
who believed that world war 2
was about fighting fascism
or my ancestors
who believed that catholics were worse than
the devil
or my ancestors who believed that native
peoples of the planet were savages
needing education
and eradication
or my ancestors who believed that
intelligence can be measured by one number
or my ancestors who believed that wat tyler
was the devil
like i said i am the selfish gene
he who has never thought about a single thing
he who works without a gun to his head
for someone else to get richer off me
i once proclaimed the end of history
the end of ideology
the end of literature
the end of music
the end of art
and so on
etc etc etc
don't bore me with the detail
too much emotional baggage
unless of course it affects me
then it is highly important
especially if it is my bank balance at stake
or my comfort zone violated
then i care
but the problem was i still continued
i wrote about the neo cons
and the most childish fable
of the evil al-qaeda
and their dastardly plots
a bit like a B-movie horror figure
as fictional as little bo peep
and i am one of her sheep
loveless
lacking empathy
fake
useless
void
ennui
i swirl around at night
underneath dying lamp posts
caped in the most readily accessible gossip
that the world's old ladies spout
on a minute-by-minute basis
my hair is made grey
by the grey lies of sad evil old men
flaccid
wrinkled
rich
but completely worthless in human feeling
i will always leave you in the shit
because i do nothing for anyone else
although i say i will
i never do
it is something integral to who i am
although i can't ever be who i am
because society will never allow it
i can but hope
but i don't hope
because it is illogical
and i can only think in a linear fashion
there is no tomorrow
until it comes
there is no past
worth dwelling upon
there is only a present
in order to survive
my brain has shrunk
to an r-complex rump
fright
fight
flight
whatever it takes to go on
no matter who i have to trample under my feet
i must go on
for i am the show
the only one
my solipsism is everything
for i must survive
patterns cannot be discerned
i do not learn
i regress
and stay in the same state
constantly
pressing the same lever
waiting for a piece of cheese to appear
even though it never did the last time
newspapers are beyond me
the news means nothing to me
a cheap laugh is where my mind is at
fickle things
that make me giggle
when times are hard
i hoard
like a counter-revolutionary kulak
starving the city
for my own gain
dishonorable
ignoble
peasant-thoughts
poured out into a barrel of crude oil
which is sitting in a derelict warehouse
untouched for thirty years
by Raygun
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