Vanish

Yesterday I kept telling
myself today I'd make it all
up--but I won't--I couldn't,
in the with nothing to do
I'm writing from the beginning
one bad trip and on to the next,
all my time left out to dry
on the surface of societal
regimentation--climbing that
grand gold slippery ladder of the
world--BUT I DON'T WANT TO!--
can't you see? I am useless to you.
I am nothing for those rules,
I don't fit in--don't want to momma--
can't--I ask them to leave me alone,
but they have SWAT gear and tear
gas, and billy clubs and guns
and they won't go away,
all I got is wine and isolation--
what about where about all
the things I want/wanted to do?
where have they gone?

They'll make me throw it away
they've made me a ghost

and I let them.