Desperation

This is written with the spirit of desperation coming from Detroit’s battered neighborhoods

This is for the ones at the brink of homelessness

It speaks for the already homeless

Sleeping in front of stores in Montevideo and in the parks of Berlin

It speaks to the confused who can’t “get with the program”

To whoever needs a push to follow their paths

And to the traveler running out of funds and growing old

If this is not for you, put it down

Line up to see what everybody else  is looking at

Be one of the crowd – yeah, and still think that you’re unique

Who cares?

It’s OK, you’ll probably never get what a drag, what a bore, you were

Of course you’ll never get what a pathetic life you lived

Your life meant nothing

You were one of the million-junk-food-costumers

Another drone

Your brain was paper weight

You could’ve wasted away on drugs and it wouldn’t have mattered—but perhaps you would’ve had more fun

You sat on the passenger seat and ate ice cream—you looked bored

You repeated what you were told to repeat

You wore what you were told to wear

You went to work when indicated

And you went to war when ordered

You wasted precious life in front of television screens

You were only a line in the tally, a dot in the statistical curve

Moooooo! Mooooo! Moooooo! Goes the cow

Baaaaah! Baaaaaaah! Baaaaaah! Goes the sheep

Be happy chasing after body parts that self-lubricate

Go play with a herd of male organs

Go on

This is only for those who haven’t made up their mind whether to live or to leave

For the ones inconvenienced by the pesky game of survival and the efforts to mask its grotesqueness

(To package it, and to present it as something decent)

This is for the one that sits alone at midnight staring at the water

If it’s not for you, go on, read Walt Disney

This is for the one awake at 3 am thinking WTF?

The one looking around in frustration and puzzlement

Not fort the followers of celebrities. (Oh no, I too poop says the celebrity surprised and disappointed)

This is for the desperate on the verge of suicide, for the disgruntled with no way out

—It won’t make sense to anybody else—

This is for the ones who understand the passion and pain of the penitent

This is for “smart” people

The system destroys whoever doesn’t “get with the program”

But why keep quiet about it

We insist in belonging to a corral, and if we don’t, we make one for ourselves

I may not be a wolf but to me one sheep is as good as a cow

This is for anybody in the system

These are combative writings, the writings of an underdog, not bedtime stories

We are what we are and do what we do because we refused to give in to the cookie cutter

Now we suffer the pressure meant to break us