my self-indulgence  

pardon my self-indulgence
as I sit on the cold wooden floor
a bloody pen in my hand
and my brain fucked on pills

i wrote “i love you”
the mantra of my soul
in dripping blood on the pastel wall
to give body to a desperate cry

but i smell those haunting cunts
who make a mockery of my prayer
smearing in deceit the coagulating letters
and teasing all meaning from my pain

pardon my self-indulgence
i should be watching “American Idol”
and drinking Canadian beer
while slapping my wife on the ass

isn’t getting time to mow the lawn
the neighbors grass is looking fine
suburban life has its prices
damn that SUV looks good

pardon my self-indulgence
but there are things i can’t forget
i carve their truth in ancient ink
make my body a living will

to a life lived in confusion
a mad mix of blood and art
a creative flame madly burning
the consuming fire in mirror faces

but life carves the masks its needs
and i daily hide the oozing wounds
to make today our daily bread
and play Ayn Rand’s vicious games

forgive my self-indulgence
i’ll try not to bore you too much
but the blood on the wall is my own
and a testament to my truth

© 2006 David Juniper