Song of Yourself

(played 4/4 with no voice, and, silent orchestration) i. …sinking, thinking, drinking, drowning – FATHER FORGIVE US FOR WE KNOW EXACTLY WHAT WE DO. …bleak, weak, I can’t speak a word.     tired of no absolutes, of  absolutely “No Proof” , of electronically enlarged body parts,     of swollen unspeakable flesh, of the temporal promise of perennial Death.     She ensues. i peruse another option, rather than my mouth ( i use my unconventional feet . )     & when i do i know the meaning of…. …ANGST…     my pangs… her fangs are sinking into the greasy nap of my neck,     pulling, dragging, drugging, viciously disemboweling my soul – that is…                         i f  i  h a v e o n e . ii.       You are here… sitting upon my festering wounds       as though a throne , the throngs of hurting people can easily access… i’ll be Your Holy of Holies,       tabernacle in my gasps for                         peace and my grasps for Love.                     but  ,  now                            i am                           but                           a col                     umn of salt looking into Yesterday and awaiting its deliverance / its salvation /                                       its redemption iii.         goodbye my love,   it’s been too long, and not pursued strongly enough – Love, that is –     Death is more tangible than your god…     goodbye my love,                 goodbye,     and,               goodnight…                                   ….you are no longer needed. Written August 15th, 2001 © on Sep 25 2001 12:38 AM PST   18 • 0 • 10