curse on your head blues

[J Hillenburg]

curse on your head blues



searching for mr. right, you fuck anyone

who you can either feel superior to, or

feeds you some crap with the word love

crouched between a couple of verbs.

I am not interested in understanding,

my only interest is in being as ugly

and bitter about this as I can.


there is no fucking mr. right for you,

only an irrational succession of one

mr. wrong after another. you still

search however. you lie down with

dark men who whisper your name

later. you open your legs to whomever

will hurt you. I do not care, let them.


however, if there was such a thing as mr.

right, I doubt anyone would ever see him with

you.