Shut Your Dirty Mouth

Tonight I thought I shook off a roach. Swore I felt it approach. Imagined it crawling down my throat. My Dad came out from the den and asked What’s Wrong? I said, Nothing, I’m fine when I still felt bits of dead roach nesting in my spine. That’s Divine. I feel the Holy Spirit in me tonight. Jesus Christ! I must have done right! Don’t come near me, I’m contaminated, clearly. Oh, God, need me! So that the sky doesn’t turn black every time I look up to seek your advice. My chips are stacked, I’ve got them wracked. Roll the dice six six six every time. On my Dime. I think I may have crossed the line. Maybe I’m sick. Maybe I’m not hip to this. Maybe I just need to settle down. Take a breath. Take a pill. Sit real still. Stare until I become comatose blare my music so loud that my eyes become brazen and I can’t hear what you’re saying. Do roaches bite? I wonder at night. As I hide beneath the covers that used to shield us from one another. Protect us from the evils in this world, bring no harm to little girls. Now they just cover up old condoms and dirty food crumbs. Numb. Numb. Numb. Can’t move. Limbs feel numb, limbs feel wrung, limbs feel slung, stammering and slurring like grandma after her stroke. This is a joke. The world’s a joke. We’re a joke. Then why aren’t we laughing? Why aren’t we guffawing until our paws fall off, our mittens become smitten and we cough up our dirty lungs with joy. Oh boy, here I go again. If this is a joke why aren’t we laughing? Why aren’t we guffawing until our paws fall off, our mittens become smitten and we cough up our dirty lungs with joy.