311 W. Norman Avenue

It’s time to go home
It’s time to home, man
I’m cold
But that home doesn’t exist
But it’s time.
Now that hold has me
It’s time to bend
Those strings which hold me.
It’s time to go home
That life which accosted me
That life you told me of
Those stories I never asked for
That beat me as if I was there
it’s time to go home
I’m cold now
Your choices flood me
Now that I’m homesick
Which I never asked for
Which I just accepted
Now that I’m homesick
sick with your life now
I didn’t turn away
Because my lessons said don’t
Because I want it to be
Something so very different
That I can’t stop this rape
A heart filled with politeness
Poisoned through a lens
Taught wrongly by conceit
Created by a love
Misinterpreted
From a pond unintended
By decisions

Dear Universe...

God decided to create an asshole,
and like all of his creations,
I am perfect.

I am sorry for the other night.
I overreacted. I make no excuses,
but I hope you will view it
as anomalous and due to unseen
stress affecting my behavior.
That is my profound hope.

Suffice it to say...
I am having a very hard go of it recently,
and due to that, in part, I lost control
of my better nature. I am ashamed of myself
for not living up to ideals which
I hold very dear.


You may be sure that it
will never happen again.


yours, mas

PS. Fuck you...I rethought the whole shmere...
you and yours can piss off. I'll take my
chances.

home then

no really...can I go home now?