Beached Whale

(For kev, with respect)

so he lay on the couch
beach whaled
harpooned by dope
too much vodka
his brain a theatre of smoke
his life already a stupid addiction
he worked like a trojan horse
he played out his weekend like
a demolition, a destructive fire

he didn't give a fuck.
having money
and time
and health - for now.

he just kept up the great game
the great intoxication
pissing it all up against the wall
living comfortably
comfortably neurotic

am i too fat?
i'm getting fat!
look at the stretch marks!
i haven't eaten in three days

you just sit in alone all the time
watching the t.v.
posponing everything
but your own death.

love
life
dancing with the world
you gave that up
for fear
for indifference
for the fat lack of motivation
for chronic apathy all day
and all night god help us.

All the people are
motivated day in day out
and when he says
i cannot be arsed
i do not want to do anything.
everything is here. it is done.

they look at me
as though
i had molested
their entire life
purpose.

i want nothing.
i need nothing.
i am a pearl within a shell
more like, a gassy shit in a paper bag.

i just want to be
crushed by the weekend
and ironed out by work.

the clock is ticking
my heart has no hands
when the blood has stopped
running through my body
like a kiss it will finish.

And
the
sky
will
remain
like
a
door
that
never
opens.