Paper curling under your head collecting dust collecting dirt collecting filth
Rags are silks, just a different color feel different
You don’t need my help I know I have more than you have
I have more than you’ll ever have than you can dream about
In your dreams there’s a giant fish that swallows you over and over and over
But you don’t need me
You have your silks
And your paperpillow
do you need anything else?
You stink of urine
Of dirt and hatred and guilt and capitalism
I had dinner today.
I had lunch today.
I didn’t have breakfast because I wasn’t hungry.
Were you hungry?
Probably not, you don’t have teeth.
They fell out a long time ago because you’ve never seen a toothbrush.
That’s not my fault.
Coins are jingling in my pockets.
There’s a hole in my pocket.
I might lose a penny.
I dream about being a giant fish.
Swimming and swallowing and being.
Everyone wants to be a giant fish.
You should be a fish. Maybe then you could have a bath.
And you wouldn’t smell like the government.
Think about it.