I Am Dirty

I need my music loud,
to drown out all the little
voices. I need to get so
dirty I can smell myself,
so I know it's time to
shower. I need to
not really care either way
because I don't really care,
about my pathetic life,
about the death sentence
it is to be brought into
this world, about the end of it
all. I need to be angry, I need
to dissent, I need to rail
against the ways of us
because I had to watch my
precious childhood dreams be
destroyed, I had to see with
my own eyes that the ways of us
are worse than I could have
imagined, I had to come to know
firsthand what it always means
to be left in smithereens.
The most that concerns me
is acquiring adequate amounts
of caffeine, being able to
get high (to drown out all
the little voices), and
knowing I have the drug in
my cupboard that ensures me eight
hours of sleep every night.
In effect, I live to sleep.
I sit at my computer hour upon
hour, scheming still to take over
the world. I sit and I wait
with bated breath for each and
every sunset, rejoicing when
they come, proud to have deducted
one more day from my store
of painful future days.
I need music loud to remind
myself who I was once.
I need to be dirty, to be
smelly, to be ever-so
slightly rancid, so that
I'm aware, and certain,
I'm still among the living.
I am dirty. I am loud.
I am angry. I am drowning out
the voices.

(2007)