Barlot ...

Death To Genetics

My dreams all begin with a death sentence
And the sequence of events falls to grey
Someone will say something like,
“The greatest thing about a man dying,
Is a woman will have to die too.”
(Oh, I know you…
Must be thinking that I’ve drawn myself to drinking
But, Love, I must confess with that I’m through.)
It’s just the nightmares won’t stop coming
Something I’ve done that I need of my chest
Undressed and vulnerable
My thoughts fade to uncontrollable…
But, that occurs even in light
Tonight, just don’t let me dream.
Crazier than I seem, I suppose
Lord knows I’ve had my share of spirits
Hear it once more, though:
I am the dynamic czar of the underworld
My name is Charlemagne
I carry guns in guitar cases
Beyond clinically insane.
A borrowed stanza reprimanded
Seems to suit the mood
However, sleeping is a different story
Four in the morning and I refuse…
Refuse to feel sorry for myself this eve.
I believe there’s always a way to doze off silent:
Ah, but of course, these straight edge ways
That I’ve fallen to these days
Chemical dependencies
Falling far from me:
Oh, Charlotte, your web is woven
And I’ve chosen
A new world order…
Quarter of the way through with existence
And already I’ve spent…
Way more than twenty five cent.
What wit!
It’s genetic, I admit
My father and his leather jackets
My mother, the loving coke addict
Static buzz…
I screamed on the floor when I heard what was
And still to this day…
I dream of a better way
To have loved the two of you enough for you to stay.

Poem Submitted: Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Poem Edited: Saturday, April 2, 2011

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