the asshat lounge

Let us stab the lazy right outta me, like that man on the cross, let's give up on this struggle and fucking surrender, like a certain boho afro'd white man of times past let's just say that i'm not here, i'm gone, i'm not here nor there nor anywhere, i've have drowned the ego and brought him back to life in some vain attempt to destroy the monster... and yet it was the monster who whispered let it go, it's all ebbs and flows and shadows and light and what does it fucking matter, it doesn't matter, the point is not to ponder the praise of the flower lily but to get on with the weeding, one can only hopscotch from one addiction to the next, from vice to vice, for so long before one becomes bored and tired of the ritual, no sense lighting candles to the filthy saints, do not genuflect to the past words of the long gone self, do not worry about the outcome or the market or the morality, just do, just listen to Li Po laugh, wait for the horn section to kick in, avoid the back of the garage, keep the hand out of familiar and strange pants alike, wipe the blood from the fingers, suck the blood off the teeth, the only noble savage is the honest savage and this savage is sharpening his spear and angling for honest nobility, granted from a plastic sword by the boy-king in all his wonder, just do, that was the message, found in the fortune cookie, found scribbled in black sharpie on the derelict bathroom wall, found scrawled on a note in the pocket of some blue jeans not worn for years, found staring blue-eyed back in the mirror each morning, found curling from the smoke as it rises from the pipe, just do motherfucker, just do...