I don't need kind words,
Kind thoughts,
Good intentions.
I don't need safe and sane,
Right job,
Right life.
I was raised short on inspiration.
I was raised where books on shelves,
Where there were books,
Were Condensed Books
Like Condensed soup
Down to nothing at all.

Art was Tuesday's at one.
Music was radio.
Entertainment was TV.

I came from the dry side,
The sly slide of life
Into old age
The don't question
Don't look back
Side of it all.

Take for granted
If you will
The magic of music.
But I can't afford it.

Inspiration.
Irritation.
An oyster.
A pearl.
You inspire me.

I'm not sucking up.
Fucking up.
Trying to get something.
Trying to buy you
Or sell.
I don't want to fuck you.
And I don't give a goddamn
What you think.
Credit goes
When credit's due.

You can deflect what is good
And what is given.
You can hide from love
And hide from life.
But I want more.

More life.
More light.
More love.
And more fucking in elevators.

Light me on fire,
Or get the fuck out.