by melanie ducharme

all the road signs point to “detour ahead.” pavement breaks my skull. jilted like a lover. breaking it off with your brain wave greed. you break me down, by the road signs. you thought lord over me. with a big faced thumb. back breaking stabbing gossip – wow! wow wee what fun!

the road sign says, “Jesus! still the answer!” when I/we/country hungry belly no money. we all break down on the side of the road. we call help, its not Jesus who comes. shit! that’s sucked. all this religion to zealot and your still jaded after all these bitch times.. bitch… bitch and moan. it only gets to be a more snooze alarm stories. whoring your monies like when you swing on a pole. still it doesn’t add up like you/i never seem to amount to the meat hooks in the grocery store. what’s human? failure. success. lets measure it by the bodies we excess…that’s the story.

I AM the failure you hoped for! you should be happy now, but you sit with a grim face humiliated by my sense of human. human race. i wasn’t purchased with a soul! what’s human? fish out in the desert. flounder, flip, I twist. how many are twisted up in this mess?! the numbers change with the date and time.

all the roads point to “dead end.” pavement breaks my skull. garbage gossip greed/lust for the green and power point presentations falls from your full lips. the hope (foolish) for one less crying night will be filled up with more stuff to cry about. one less person with feelings like a person – here’s your number: 1594563778g89909jkn – what you/i really am – memorize it. loser your soul. loser your not a breathe. don’t bother to breathe, but breed more to tango in this mess. loser your soul.


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