::03:13:08::

::: 56: It Can't Get Any Worse :::

Just when you think
It can’t get
Any worse
You refresh
The inside story
That you keep
In your left
Jean pocket
On a few scraps
Of museum stationary
All about
How you went
Off the rails
Slip
Fall
And your friends
That you call
Friends
Are really waiting
For
The exquisite
Train wreck corpse
A simple meltdown
Of a seemingly
Good girl
Or good boy
For that matter
Either way
You know
With my emphasis
Always on
The little crazy town
Of life
I think
I probably
Could still
Whup your ass
Maybe not
Because
I cannot bring you
The simile-spewing tech
You dance desire to
Nor the syrup-swilling
Fashion pedicures
And hipster talking dolls
You want
To thump

But at least I know
That little crazy
In me
Is coming
From having traveled
The world
Or maybe
Its just my
Abby Normal brain
Bobbing for ghetto-nerd apples
In a vat labeled
STEREOTYPE
In a government
Research outpost
For new BMX bikes
That hold up
To the coldest
Most desolate places
In your
Antarctica heart

MADNESS

I tell you
Come closer
Let me whisper
Sweet psychosis
In your Walt-Disney ears
Can you keep a secret?

Well
You play with me,
I’ll knock your head open
Straight up

Written by: ~ J.D. Szalla

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