Monday, April 09, 2007

I finger the action-figures

There are plenty of action-figures to identify
When the police-detectives put me in my little gray room
And illuminate the criminal line-up
Before the rampage
Where I stab thirty-two
Seperate psychological dilemmas
And make love to the desktop pencil-sharpener
I'm unreasonable and perfectly furious today I'm
stealing scooters from elderly homeless women
And running down puppies with my aluminum baseball-bat
Which is innocent and sin-less
Because I am thinking
Without thinking and thinking about thinking
Something else entirely
At the bus-stop with a butterfly-knife
And a brain that loves every object it discovers

1 comment:

MadisonGlass said...

I suppose you can't stab thirty-two of my psychological dilemmas. I suppose that's something I have to do. Fucking universe. Good poem.