Baggage

Harley Flanagan drumming for "The Stimulators" when he was around ten or twelve years old.

The things we were

when weakness was all we knew

refuse to die

and they pop up

every once in a while

to remind us

that we haven´t changed that much.

I´ll talk about myself 

(I don´t really know anything else)

I was a doofy cunt

with a backpack full of books

and a mind filled with dreams of warrior and swords.

I wanted to be a wizard

and I stood silently in front of libraries

dreaming of the books that I would write.

I ate dirt by the truckload

I choked on knuckles and humilliation

I tasted the boots of every single

clean cut

square jawed

football playing

cheerleader fucking dude

who was able to drag me out from the trenches of my fear.

I receeded into a shell made of bitterness

I pushed through the years 

armed with a undying disregard for humanity,

flanked by both sides

with hours upon hours

of songs and anthems

that would stay with me

until my death.

But every now and then

I can hear a boy slobbering

through a sea of his own tears,

clinging to his books,

hugging his knees,

wishing for something better

and I remember...

that he needs to be killed one of these days.