The Mezunian

Die Positivität ist das Opium des Volkes, aber der Spott ist das Opium der Verrückten

I’m Sorry for Being Unhappy

I'm kidding. No I'm not.

I'm proud o' my scrumptious misery.

You covet my sorrow like a salty snow cone.

You wish you could feel the fresh sting I feel in my chest,

the heftiness in my limbs,

the fuzzy ache in my brain muscles.

Well, you can't have any o' it.

It's mine.

I worked hard to have it,

cultivated it o'er years--

far too many for you to just swoop in like a dog-food scoop

& spoon it into your pouchy maw.

Not happenin', cap'n.

Not on this ship, Jim.

& I'm keeping it, too:

all the hornets swarming through my throat & mouth,

the dry lock on my mind as the world round my blurs into Photoshop filters,

the itchiness,


hunger & bloat,

the constant yanking on all my nerve-ends...

Hold it.

This has gone on far too long.

You've seen 'nough for a day.


Got to put the display case back in its model.

The door's just on the left out in the hallway.

Good day.

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Posted in Crazy, Poetry