i went to the race, made a bet

when no one reads or listens or knows what you say you can say or do whatever and no one the wiser. Not one of those they talk about in the morning when they come in to work and have nothing exciting to talk about but make up crap about other people. Did you see that story?

Personally I don't think it's right, or that's what the church says, or it used to say that, but one thing is if you change your mind then it's too late cause when the times they kill you then you are out of time. What the hell were you thinking anyway?

There's lots of people killed by all the good times they had.
Is it worse if it the bad times kill or you kill to have no more?

Every one of then thought they knew the moral of the story.
What they didn't know is everyone in America was waiting, listening, trying to hear, eavesdropping on none of their business. What business of yours what any of us do or how many survive? But all they heard was nothing but the wind whistling through parched lips of little girls, permanently pursed, won't suck again. All of these we hate, we hate our own more than that. Running through the park knowing there's not another way.

Once I thought it was my house where we lived but they set me straight early on. Maybe the mistake is thinking they were supposed to love me. Or maybe they did and we didn't know it for what it was but bought into a story tale. All these people came from only Adam and Eve so after all, do the math. I'm no good at math. I can't even breathe.

It was my house but I only lived there to do bidding; whose bidding? All of theirs. Didn't I tell you, did you never see? I was there, out in the open, except the ones hid away. Even I forgot where we left them.

All films are propaganda but many are quite amused to sink into the seat. Give the rumpled damp dollars to the kid standing there behind the security glass, safe from everyone but the ones that do them, all for a little piece of paper to go through the wash later in the week. All I did was I was born but I never asked for it.

Many people in their jesus pose think they are friends but that's when they don't know me. Then one of us gets away and everyone is gone, we are alone with only the others of us. There is such a thing and we're not crazy. Just don't let me go. I just need some help to see myself before we disappear and forget everything we thought we knew before all of this. We're probably not here much longer.

Many people in their jesus pose have swastikas on their skins but it's okay because you can't see them if you don't look. Not looking is how we get from there to here. But no one sees or no one cares or no one believes or they see it all and don't know what they see. Or no one cares what any of it means.

Then one will say I know how you feel but we all know that lie. We never told you really, not a thing. My brother's dead. When he was born I was two and now we're fifty and he's been gone a really long time. You don't know even how you feel so why pretend to know about us? Whatever is not this one or any other of me.

If all you ever do is say the right things can you tell yourself what - you're smart? a poet? Doesn't mean you know jack shit about the real world. So maybe one day you're the hero and the next they're all over, looking, waiting for you to pass the cross hairs. When all you want to do is get the hell out, you can't.

In the bathtub sleeping or something like it. Whatever, whyever, none of your business. Because that's how they do it, in tubs full of water. I don't know why I have to fill the tub with water cept that's how they always do the movies. See the black dull chips, the dull white dirty finish. Now it's just me and nothing more. Like always if you stop to think about it. Slow drip like my first metronome, bleeding myself. Looking down the drain I feel the voices rush against the open wounds screaming, what I can't say. None of us speak that language. How long we've been here I don't know. Does it matter?

I only said it so it couldn't hurt me. So they couldn't use it against me. Everyone knows they are good and we, we are not, we are liars. I gave permission to die, I'm not afraid, none of us. I only did it so they couldn't do it to me. So they couldn't take any more. Nothing's left.

The barrel doesn't feel cold after you wrap your tongue round it. Not very cold in your mouth. It's just where we're living, it's the last that we're giving. Only a second to pull the trigger and then we won't need to do it again. You can just keep walking and no one will ever know. Even if you're not done I am.

Waiting for the noise to die down but the chanting grows louder louder and louder.
Everything
something
nothing matters.