I was thinking I might be depressed
Not like real depressed people
Maybe I affect depression
When really it’s just despondent acceptance of my failure  


    I grew up in the Golden Age
    Where intimacy, freedom and good will
    Somehow bloomed for just one brief moment
    Before wilting in the barren heat of my
     Selfish stupidity and my laziness

In my mind here I’m writing a perverse parody of               
My friend Diana’s poem (the poor kid still dies, just in an even funnier way)               
And making cancer jokes
You gasp               
And ask why, well               
For comedy!               
I always thought I was one and comedy always comes first


In these ashes it only matters
What I look like – the complete opposite of what I believe

It took 200 years for the flower to bloom
But just 50 to stomp it into the dirt and
Piss on it