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Poem

where does love come from?
where does love stop?
i've met too many that speak of its nonexistence
i know far too many sadists, 
masochists, pessimists, nihilists
and i had to shake them all off 
on my long-winded ride to the top (of what?)

i'm not known in distant lands
i'm not praised in foreign valleys
i've got a few close friends
and not much else beside the point
	
i'm not going into new discoveries
i'm not emerging from them
what life is left to live
if you're simply too much for yourself to handle?

hello, goodbye
so sorry, i'm not anything really special
i'm just another joe
with neurotic dreams of grandeur
oh wait, but now the dreams have become nightmares
ones i can no longer write home about
they might throw me in the looney bin
and study the kind of state i'm in

wouldn't i love that

but hey, i'm not crazy
and maybe that's the problem
i'm way too sane for my own damn good
i'm way too f---in' grounded in what values and ideas
were always set
chaos is the way of the world
and i'm trying to make sense of it
just like all the others
who study open-ended mysteries
to finally arrive at nothing

that surely beautiful something
that everything leads back to nothing

i can't think straight
no, i think so straight 
i just can't think anymore

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