-O’Hara
‘sometimes’ he said ‘yer nothing more that a hoard of distractions’
‘yer so blue that little dutch boys’ pants have nothing on you’
i stopped to listen to that damn cat--
"hang in there, baby"
yes i'm hanging, strung up by my inadequacies
weighted down by my shroud of apathy
equal parts fascism & battery acid
i’m a byproduct of exhibitionism
an aesthetic maelstrom
& my ‘bohemian-epicurean-linguistic-
underground-artistic-
subursive-intelligentsiac-
mafioso-bourgois’ façade will not budge
& I can’t seem to decide if that’s a good thing or not
i feel so abstract and unnecessary i should blow my brains out in the Guggenheim
under the placard "boy, interrupted"
like a suicide note with wisecracks
the life I’ve been leading is a joke
a constant excuse for one-liners
a rip-roaring farce through the depths of hell
a zany, free for all comedy
that sizzles, especially when I’m
getting burnt at the communal stake
i can always hope there's blue skies up ahead
but i'm a raincloud
and parched love is always in vogue
so i’m just going to pour like there’s no tomorrow
and let the clichés flow like wine
until you let me get drunk off you again
