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I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by overindulgence, marijuana and over-contemplation, wishing they were starving hysterical naked dragging themselves through serial breakfasts, past fruit loop killers, angel headed hipsters burning for the American dream and yearning for 3-car garages

Who were too stoned or too busy to sit up smoking in the supernatural darkness contemplating jazz

Who chose explanation over dogma and the X-Files over mass

Who take their education for granted, expelled from the academies for crazy without setting foot in them, holding out for a better publisher and a better offer and shutting the blinds of the windows of the skull

Who relished cowering in underwear and pierced skin instead of worrying about money and ignored alarm clocks

Who E-Z Pass their way through slow lines and breathe through the internet all over the world, drinking robitussen in an effort to see nightmares and god personified

Who found the 9th circle of hell on Sept. 11, still hungover from the trench coat mafia, snorting lines of Anthrax and sighing a with a collective shuddering orgasm when Timothy McVeigh was pronounced dead

Who feared a plague instead of pregnancy, and worshipped latex

Who learned in youth to fake smiles and act stupid because beauty was a better argument for anything than rhetoric

Who stand on soap boxes (only if they have the right label) and retire to fat-free life and calorie-free thoughts, brains all drained of brilliance

Who wore broken hearts on necklaces or framed and hung them on a dry-rotted wall, storing up hang-ups for their next idiosyncratic romantic mess

Who take Xanax, Dopamine and Prozac because they aren’t what they see on the movie screen
Who argue the right to choose but can’t decide what to eat for dinner, marvel at soaring gas prices and hurl obscenities at the Middle East

Who rapidly become humanity compressed as water becomes precious and life a reproductive death sentence

Who can recite Beatles and Doors lyrics but failed out of college and have never read Great Expectations

Who became wizards at Super Mario Brothers and the Legend of Zelda while their parents were getting divorced and the Berlin wall was falling down, falling down…

Who botched elections, willingly inhaled, polluted and got $200 littering fines and threw trash into the water to sleep on Titanic and buried needles in their arms and under cities as heroin seeped into the water supply

Who crossed the George Washington Bridge only with the OK of the National Guard and bit their lips passing ground zero

Who couldn’t function without cell phones or credit cards and racked up a lifetime of debt by the time they could be the punch line of a joke

Who scream about lack of liberty while reality TV practices the rhythm method of lobotomy

Who haven’t sat down to a family dinner in 2 years and hate their parents for abusing them or just doing their jobs

Who long for validation by peers and stay at dead-end jobs pretending to work and learning to sleep open eyed and wide-mouthed

Who walk the streets of New York looking for an answer or a one-night stand unaware of the blood flowing under the asphalt

Who live down the hatred of their forefathers with ferocity and turn white hoods burning crosses and goose-stepping into daily bread or fight dreaded “isms” because that’s the patriotic thing to do and united we stand

Who distill feeling into atomic blasts and magazines of ammunition, laying waste to progenies centuries old

Who argue 5 or 6 points to a star, bottlenecking in passive resistance and turning inkblots into a cure

Who know there’s a hell of a good universe next door but won’t go because they might have to take a pay cut

Who found out how much it costs to kill a man on a budget and let their responsibility flatline with the executed and the cost of cotton balls to pointlessly sterilize sodium thiopental, pancuronium bromide, and potassium chloride needles

Who make billion dollar errors working for NASA and Enron, shrug, and take an hour for lunch

Who let themselves be fucked recklessly by the bartenders because they couldn’t find anyone else to go home with and screamed with boredom

Who cut their wrists and wrote in their own blood regurgitations of great writers, obsessed with disaster and wearing gas masks even to sleep and to screw, petrified of dying unknown or alone

Who wander past the homeless in Penn Station without a second glance or any recognition of humanity, just an agenda

And hustle cash from the naïve without a second thought

In my dreams you walk dripping with much needed rain from a journey into history in tears to my door at the top of the stairs in the East Coast night


 


-Feb. 2003

Created: Jan 12, 2012

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