Is it tragedy or boredom
That stops him from calling me?
I’m hanging on with bloody fingernails!
Hanging onto spiderwebs!
And if this sounds cliche,
It’s because life is cliche!
Who isn’t born as a result of a fuck?
(Except for the several million born in test-tubes!)
Who doesn’t eat and shit tons of waste?
(Except for those who die young!)
Who can live without air,
Who fucks as often as they like?
(Except for the whores of the world!)
Who fucks the people they like,
More than several times a lifetime?
Whose life isn’t cliche?
Who never hangs with bloody fingernails
Onto slippery cobwebs?
(Except for those who die young! Very young!)
I found true love.
I’m of that minority.
I’ve had my heart shattered.
I’m of that majority.
I will die too,
But probably when and how I choose to.
And that makes me as immortal as we can ever hope to be!
Oh! And I caught my tail!
And lived to tell the tale.
In great detail!
And with beautiful ornamentation.
Perhaps my life isn’t that cliche after all!