hay and apples

sunday is my 36th birthday
so i find myself looking down
into my arms
wondering
why i’m still carrying this shit around

see
today is fucking friday
and fridays are for freedom
they’re for setting fire to people
who deserve a good burning

all my rotten wood is collected
moments of chocolate covered regret
soured creamy feelings
and behavior patterns more injurious
than self mutilation

the gas can in my hand

trusty zippo in the other
ready to take flight

your army will be driven into the sea

i will eat your war

i will eat your god beliefs

i will eat your evil

i will eat your rules

i will eat your academic snobbery

and still have time

to eat some pussy