did i make a mistake
going on the so-called socials
seeing what’s up, what’s down, what’s hollowed out
rotting circus it is
did i make a mistake
comparing my life to this busted carnival
against their polished propaganda
and reminiscing the trap, the tar-pit, the golden cage
i once created
did i make a mistake
when i lived loose and rabid,
ego-drunk and sunburned with freedom
foam at the mouth and laughing manically
did i make a mistake
torching soldiers
and civilians both open-faced and hidden
pillaged them and strutted,
proud as a lunatic with blood on his shirt
veins full of filthy gasoline
did i make a mistake
spitting whiskey venom in bigwig faces
bolting from “opportunities”
at every chance of palmers-scented delirium
did i make a mistake
when i turned a little boy into static, the piss and the shit
at least couple times in my life
did i make a mistake
when i loved, raw and unfiltered
vomited the truth
did i make a mistake
when honesty became euro-store cheap
even for me,
after all the counterfeit hymns
i finally bled something sharp and real:
achievements and fears
im here
i howled
i wanted to write about
them
again
what
in a flicker of doubt
i missed
but im here
i wrote today
not this lil note, no
no afterthought,
no
a world
a scene
and another
for whom?
for me
whose gonna pay for this?
well
who pays?
me, goddamn it
i know they get those budget sometimes
blood money
for their so called community events
and yes, i’m jealous
but i forget to often
i fund my own damn breath
i bankroll my own apocalypse
i foot the bill for every hallucination
every dream
i am the budget
so did i make a mistake
cutting my cousin the right amount,
watching it grow, metastasize
seed sprouted
became the tree that shades us
so who did the mistake?
was it me quitting the posting,
me ghosting the stage,
not leaping like a circus pet
not groveling at at every hollow corporation soirée they’re selling
or was it their mistake
pushing the same dead horse on repeat
never once giving thanks back
to a god, or demon, of this desert
i’m not buying
i’m thanking
thankful for blood-kin
thankful for my mistakes
thankful for the words i carved today
thankful i still drag around the guts
to create
to twist the dial
to listen
and to scream
im here
i made mistakes
but i was right
far more often
than i was wrong
