Insensible Comedy of Canes and Can'ts

Shit Happens

I'm mad at everything. I'm mad at my teeth.my gums, and eyes, My kidneys and every muscle and nerve, I'm mad because my legs are weak and tremble And give way unexpectedly when I stand And sometimes when I stand up, I sway Or lean too far in some direction, Or just fall back into the chair and can't get out Welcome to hell. It could be worse, no doubt of that. I wouldn't mind killing something, though, Maybe even a whole living race all across the universe (Like some extreme villain in an episode of Star Trek), Or something could kill me, I guess--I wouldn't raise a stink, I'm not particular--either one might be all right If I could just keep it under my hat and from my friends, Or keep from falling over till it's time Or not lose my cane so much, not be such a cripple Who always drops it somewhere that it's hard to reach And if I have to bend down that fucking low I might not keep my balance and land on the rug, Watching TV sideways for a few hours. Each New Day comes with perpetual Idiot Newsmen, Like a dog with fleas, And there's never any good news And they make such a fucking drama of it. Doesn't shit ever just happen, and that's it? All this madness mostly bums me out and I trip on me and don't like anyone alive And before it's over I eat the remote and swallow it And feel the reckless fall inside my head-- Sometimes it centers in my back Like I'd slept on an Anvil Or been kidney-punched by someone who knows how. I wonder now if termites are eating my brain And if I should start eating wood and frass, Just leave the human race behind. Giving no regard to the Fall or to the damage in reality. I wonder, Why is it like this? But the master of all kings and insects, And all the debutantes and diabetics, The author of all Being and Nothingness, Answers, "Why not?" Who knew He was such a Comedian?