A Series of Questions to the Tune of “Talking to Yourself”
Is this a typewriter?
Is this a way out?
Is this something I can stand to swallow?
Is that a blowjob reference?
Where is your steel?
Where is your sword that’s mightier than the word?
Where is your collection of words you promised us?
Where is your resolution?
When will this pass?
When will you get to feel that fire again?
When will you be strong enough to not care?
When will you have the strength to care and still make it through the day?
Hey! What’re you looking at?
Hey! Why don’t we talk about it?
Hey! How much do you need?
Hey! When did things start hitting so heavy so quickly?
Do these new muscles mean nothing?
Does age wipe out possibility?
Does memory fade or acquiesce?
Do you know what you are?
The answer is something incredibly embarrassing.
