Estimated Prophet pt II

At the same time my ears ring, my eyes burn and my sixth sense is heightened to where an alarm will probably go off fifteen minutes from now. There has to be an alarm going off somewhere fifteen minutes from right now anyway, I’m sure of it. I can’t imagine why, but then I realized as much as I am into letting you know how much I like you or don’t like you via secretly recorded conversations about my third cousin I’ve never met anyway, I still notice this shit. I notice it all though and it’s why I can’t even relate to here anymore.



Sometimes you can have a memory of a scent from when you were a child ,someone’s house, a food you used to eat, whatever. The other night I randomly remembered the scent, and then the lighting and whole atmosphere of where I went to what we called “CCD”. I have no idea what this even stood for, but it had to do with preparing kids for confirmation in the Catholic church. The only thing I really remember about these classes is, they were maybe in the early evening once or twice a week, they were boring as hell and you basically just spent your time memorizing these stupid prayers....Our Father, The Lord’s Prayer and maybe Hail Mary. I couldn’t recite a single word from any of these at this point in my life as I guess because of the timing of it was during a formative time in my life when it was kind of hard to trick me. I was being taught to talk to someone I never met, someone I couldn’t see and someone who lived in “the sky”.

I never received my Communion or Confirmation as a Catholic as at one point or another I complained so much to my parents that I hated it they took me out of it...I went to Penance once to tell a priest of my recent sins which in retrospect seems just wrong to do to a ten year old kid. How many of the Ten Commandments can you even break that young? My parents weren’t church people, and with my dad in the music industry in the 70’s and the nature of what I was involved in during the early and mid-eighties, worshipping someone I could never see or touch seemed more absurd by the second.

With my dad in the industry, we were able to go to quite a few big concerts, often going backstage to meet these rockstars like Styx, Supertramp and later on in life New Order, Robert Plant, and then countless musicians in the punk rock scene. With the ability to meet and see these people as real humans my idea of idol worship and that kind of think was more dull than most people I know. The fact that I spent so many hours with records by bands and musicians that I could someday meet made the notion of worshipping anybody or any entity a ridiculous thing. This isn’t to say I still don’t do this to this day though.

I can have my mood and attitude completely changed within minutes if I hear certain musicians. If I need advice on something I can consult a musician or an author for advice or inspiration. Where I live right now, there are quite a few “Jesus people” as I like to call them. They are some of the most unfriendly, close minded people I have had the pleasure of being surrounded by. Sitting in this coffee shop playing music loud into my ears and watching them is like watching a movie. Starring all white people, they’ve all stepped out of a white picket fenced world of backstabbing and weird ideas of how things should be and well “leave us alone anyway”. Every one of them probably own a Golden Retriever and a minivan, watch Everybody Loves Raymond on a nightly basis and have about two orgasms a presidency.



I have this plan of slipping out the back door without anyone seeing. Without leaving a note, without slamming the door shut. A quiet sneak out the back door with one knapsack full of ironic t-shirts, sneakers and books about dead people with hard to pronounce names. I have the ability to drive a whole day without feeling guilt. I can leave blank pages on the ground, a trail of crumbs that leads nowhere but to me sitting in a hotel room waiting for the sun to come up so I can bore myself to death for nine hours again with deserts and forests and hills and white people with ridiculous accents. Not a single drop of poison needed, not a single piece of anything. If they need to wonder where I am they can, but at the end of the day I don’t owe anyone anything. It’s sunny enough here that people can figure everything out on their own. I don’t think anyone would even want my advice. I hate giving advice, nobody takes it, I never take it either so. Mostly though, if I can never hear another person complain for as long as I live, if I can never read another person complain again as long as I live, and I can slip away to some small place on the Pacific Ocean I’ll be done. Nothing here but noise and noise and that kind of thing, well it’s easy to slip away without anyone even noticing. I hate cakes anyway.

Purgatory

I Come in here and see all the reasons I don’t want to be here. Unfriendly faces that are supposed to be friendly. Walking around town and seeing people I thought were supposed to be a lot more friendly, these Jesus people they love one another, but no one else. If they don’t know you, forget it, you don’t get anything. I hope they all burn in hell for eternity. I don’t want to be in this shitty place anymore. If it means doing shitty things to make money to get out of here I’ll do it, what do you got? I don’t feel any sort of connection here any more. I don’t feel like I am “turning my back on my home”, this place sucks, every single thing about it. Let me tell you how I really feel though.

At this point it doesn’t matter who will let you down, it’s just a matter of when they will.



I hate that they can’t stop it. Can’t stop the attempts to impress everyone and me with witty remarks and knowledge about shit nobody cares about. I can’t read or hear anymore of it as it makes me disappear for a day or five at a time from all of this. Asking for advice and opinions about things that are happening to nine people away from me, that I haven’t seen in however many years, who knows really. Whatever it is I am talking about here, I have no idea. Oh yeah, I’m not like you and don’t ever agree with anything you say. It never means anything and never will. You’d be better off leaving me alone. Sure I can lie for eternity and keep entertaining your ego a tiny bit every other week, but for the most part if you disappeared from my life completely I wouldn’t care even a little bit.

Whatever and whenever all of this crap washes over me, which is almost every other day I never know how I am going to react. Like someone with anger issues, most likely not. I know when to shut it off, I know what lines I am not supposed to cross over. Sometimes though, I imagine a life without knowing how and when to turn shit off. I imagine how many fights I would have gotten into. How much more shit I would have broken. How many friendships and relationships ruined. At one point though, I learned how to be a pussy about shit I guess? Or just be more of a behind the scenes shithead. At this point though, ignored and left to my own thinking and time wasting I spend way much more time figuring out how all these fucks do things. I sit around and think about who and what I despise and am left with a small handful of people and places and things to do. What a cliche that is though, eh?



"Paintings"
So I wake up because I’m tossing and turning in the bed because you know I have some issues with some issues I have how funny is that I keep myself up late at night like this so I have been reading this book it’s just a non fiction book about ummmm people I guess don’t really need to go into detail but it says a good thing to do is to wake yourself up in the middle of sleep and then write you have the most creativity and your thoughts are actually the most crystal clear they can be so you know I toss and turn in bed keeping myself awake because I have some issues with some issues I have and I wake up and hey here I am again shit what did I write in here earlier hahaha I make myself laugh so not to mention the fact that there was a guy standing at the foot of my bed while sleeping you see when this guy gets in those mean Ihateeverybody moods he needs to throw satchmo on the stereo to sing me to sleep because I have some issues with some issues I have and he helps me out he makes it all better see

Okay, look at me now cool as a cucumber I stay up late and then get up early and turn into the doctor so not to mention that I wake up and there are snakes all over the floor of my room probably from the guy that was standing there watching me sleep it’s cool though satchmo is so much more powerful than the evil doctor that comes into my room and puts snakes on the floor and makes me itch like I do I have itches all over my body all weekend he put fleas in my bed that cocksucker put fleas in my bed bedbugs is the more polite thing to call them I guess flea is a mean thing to say it’s like saying bitch or cocksucker or motherfucker or communist so yeah it’s funny because I don’t fucking dream anymore how fucked up is that that’s not fair perhaps because I watch so many movies that I don’t need to dream who cares anyway dreams mean nothing but a bunch of random images that are useless in the long run like the issues I have with some of these issues I have right now

Imagine me as fireman coming out of the building like superman or yeah forget that imagine me as superhero here to save the world from mean evil people like myself when I have those issues that I have imagine me like totally top ten style with gold rings on my fingers and a handful of cash they pick me up in jaguars and drive me far and take me to exotic places where we can forget about how to make a good cup of coffee and forget about the issues I have with some of the issues I have imagine me like the big time and shit ya know like the big time no guys coming to visit me in the middle of the night that are part of that network of people who fuck with me I talked about them and people just laugh and point and make fun like the little boy who cried wolf or fire in a crowded theatre it’s a bit funny that anyone would think that I’m this big meany who hates and spits venom in real life never takes himself too seriously I mean takes himself too seriously I mean fuck I can spell I can’t form good sentences but fuck I can spell gosh darn it but fuck if anyone ever says that I am a big jerk and I shouldn’t say this and I shouldn’t say that about this person and that person than they don’t know me and they can go sit in a theatre with little boys who yell fire and throw wolves with rabies at girls with pony tails

I once threw a jellyfish at a boy on the beach he cried and threw sand at me and my mother slapped me across the face and told me to apologize I never ended up becoming friends with him or even having a homosexual encounter I think the one thing they teach you is to never have a homosexual encounter with a boy who throws a jellyfish at your face I did all sorts of bad mean things like that when I was a little boy I threw a brick at my brothers friend because he said I sucked at football I showed him how it really was with my dallas cowboy cheerleader looking self and then a kid attacked me at age ten and I stabbed his hand with a rusty pipe

Let me tell you about it and make fun stories out of the absurdity of it all as it stands now though I can’t take people chasing me into the house because they watch me from the woods I can’t take myself too seriously I have a good amount of time left when I think ahead of a living clean lifestyle you watch me I can live like the bathroom sink with bright white and shiny like a new bathroom sink you know I can live like that like a guy that is clean like the bathtub in the convenience store outside of Knoxville Tennessee that I hid from a homeless man with an erect thumb for twenty-three minutes I can make things out of words that don’t need to hurt people or confuse people if I need to watch hello my name is christian I live in Massachusetts I enjoy good film fine food and louis armstrong once a week.

I have a plug sticking out of my head that tells me to keep going and yeah I want to say one more thing, picture me like on fire and shit like the king of the world of whatever I need it to be ya know like picture me big time.

Drive West on Sunset

There is a way to do business like I want to do business without causing a scene you know. So after a few conversations with “yeah, I know” littered throughout them and witnessing things first hand, I realize I need to move. Not move, but move my head across town. Watching three blonde girls with gross tits and tight pants drink a trio of “colorful drinks” with all sorts of fruits and shit hanging out of them is a funny sight I see from time to time. They all went home to their vibrators and Justin Timberlake posters, while their boyfriends were out with the boys holding up Britney Spears pictures to the light to see if you could see anything underneath her clothes.



I want to hold hands in the desert. Sometimes I feel like I am driving into the desert, and we will spend eternity there, talking and balancing a steady diet of shitty coffee and arguments about strength. The only way for me to completely move is to never show my ID to anyone again. Move into this new place. I want the memories of fishing boats and walks on piers and cooking chicken and rice for two and movies about apes and people with no arms and drives to Maine and even faster drives home and blow jobs in the middle of the night and bags of candy with just the black ones left and carnivals with no rides for me and complete contentment with this that and the other thing. Who wants the glass of whiskey with a phone number sticking out of it? Not I , I have that. Well, I had it. I don’t want anyone to get in the way of this. This is why the fingers never do the walking anymore.



This is why my dream has come true. My dreams always come true after 5 or 6 nightmares in a row. Dreams of tables for one. I like that I can’t taste blood anymore. I like that I don’t have to take acting classes and all of that fun stuff. I like that I can be held down at gunpoint and still have a good time. I know the limit now. I know the way to San Jose. I know where to find the sunlight and easy living. It ain’t about finding it every day though. It’s all about me. It’s about me all the time. Fuck that, I don’t need to sign any papers. I don’t need to move myself into any new homes and shake hands with the devil and all of that. I now know who my friends and enemies are. It can’t be that bad, you just don’t know what you’re talking about, now come over here and pick my teeth out of this tree for me I can’t feel my legs and my dad is going to kill me for what I’ve done to the car. Sick? You are definitely not sick, you want to feel sick. You just don’t use your brain ever. I make apologies and I send greeting cards to you and you still think it’s all okay. You don’t realize it moves on. It all moves along slowly.



Magicians with baseball hats making your trust disappear. I like showing people the same tricks they showed me. I like smashing books and notebooks full of sugar and spice and everything nice. I like when I can get up in the morning, literally roll out of bed and have a million things to say about her. I was thinking about her before bed and I thought good things and nothing bad. Who cares what the neighbors say? Who would care what the folks downstairs would think. I’m not turning this car around and heading home I know that much. I could sit here and wonder and write letters and make phone calls like I did a month ago, but I have no real reason to act like a lollipop anymore. Why be a sucker when you have better neighbors that are more than willing to lend you sugar? Curiosity. Jealousy. They happen for a day at a time with me.



They come out of my room and they kill me with eyes that look right through me. The eyes stop at one place and don’t move from there. I want things from people. I want them to just shut the fuck up most of the time. I want people to give me things now. I gave way too many things for years and then turned into a sucker all the time. I want to go back to mutual decision making, and mutually administered back rubs and phone calls. There isn’t time for the advice of Jack Daniels right now, that’s so two lives ago. That’s so 16 years ago. I swallow things and spit them out when they taste like hair spray and whiskey. I throw them against the wall as hard as I can so I can see the blood splatter all over the place. I have these visions of blood all the time. Vivid, detailed scenarios of what it must be like to be involved in a disastrous car wreck. I had to pull off the road four times last week because I thought a truck was going to hit me head on going 75 miles and hour. I pictured this big metal thing coming through the window and me trying to duck, and just having my head ripped wide open and screaming from passengers and brakes and glass and all of that. No blood, just glass and crying. I’m too confident in that car. Too confident I won’t hit the big truck. The big trucks kill me. The big trucks haunt me anytime I’m on the highway.



This is one main reason Jack Daniels isn’t going to help me. He helps boys gather information about girls they would otherwise not give the time of day to. It helps girls forget they have any pride or respect. It helps nobody really. It helps me turn my love into comedy. It helps me walk down the street and find comedy at every corner as they all swerve and stumble through their little lives. It helps me get to the bottom of things a lot easier.



When I hit my exit I’m gonna get off and drive so fucking far away from here. When I hit my exit, I’m gonna drive to the beach. I love the vast ocean in front of me. It sort of scares me and makes me feel good at the same time. It’s all too big. I don’t want the big things anymore. None of the big issues to deal with. None of the day to day bullshit I seem to get myself involved with all because someone is a loser and I don’t want to shake his or her hand. I want this to end. Well, it has ended at this point. It has started to show it’s face in different ways now. I want this room to be a whole new center of attention for me. I don’t like the outside anymore, there’s far too many dangerous things happening, and far too many people I just don’t want to see ever again. Just those people I meet from time to time that don’t do a thing for me. I don’t mean my friends, maybe the people who know certain people and this and that and the other thing. No substance usually.



You don’t even understand the winter, it makes you weak, it makes you complain and complain and never want to be alone. You can’t even handle what the winter does to people. I like to watch what it does to people like you. Taking your emotions and building them up until February arrives and you have a nervous breakdown and can't handle anything whatsoever. You can’t handle the way it freezes everything you have and puts everyone away for the night. The nights are so lonely and desolate. Your car makes all this noise and only you get to hear it. You get to pull into the frosted driveway late at night depressed yet again, thirty something winters and you still can’t get it right. “I’m gonna move to Texas”, you’re going nowhere. Go up to your bedroom. Don’t lock the car in this weather, the locks may freeze. The night wants you to just shut the fuck up and go to bed. You’ll go to bed and like it. Nobody is out tonight, nobody is calling you tonight. You and the freezing wind and the frustration. Snow comes and you still can’t figure out why the winter does this to people every year. It doesn’t though, it’s just you. You and your weak self can’t handle loneliness. You can’t go at it alone. You can’t sit by the fire by yourself. You can’t go a few days without speaking a word. You need the interaction, you need someone to hold you from time to time, that’s not asking much right? Everyone needs that. Everyone needs the adoration and warmth of another human being. You need it constantly. Some place warm to hold your heart and not squeeze it so tight, especially in this winter. This dead cold winter. The summer is your time of year. Hot nights by the pool, no complaints from you. Everyone is home for vacation. Everyone is always around. You all get to get together and talk about how much the winter sucked. Nobody is hearing you though. You make jokes and comments about this one and that one, and can’t remember the last time someone held you in their arms and looked you in the eye. People, they seem to look away from you all the time. People, they seem to not want you. The summer is your time, and it’s ending quickly. What do you do, do you go for the gold and not turn back, or do you drive the straight and narrow road straight into it. I once drove my car off of a pier because they said I wouldn’t. Jumped out at the last minute and walked home with my new shoes and made sure I didn’t get sick. I don’t get sick often. I drive my car off of piers and don’t get sick. I drive my car into seasons. Slow dead cold seasons. I drive my car into this bullshit all the time. I know how to enjoy the ride now. I realize now that there is one way to approach this, with the car in drive, headlights on, seat belts fastened, clean windshield, and a full tank of gas.

F

Last night I never went to sleep at all. Woke up 9:00 AM the previous day (Thursday) after going to bed at 8:00 AM. So aside from that brief hour or so of sleep Thursday morning, I haven’t slept at all. It’s boring and nothing happens, who wants to sleep? Truly though, I did eventually go to sleep this morning, and slept for a bit. Before that however I decided to pour some Robitussin in a shotglass and take two shots of that, two shots of rum and smoked half a joint and wrote this:


In the hills of whereversville California
Far above gross strips of orange and grey
Hollywood on one side and an area I should never call home on the other
Trying to locate the first second
The best way to my heart
Looks of frustration
Contentment
And just that look

“every single one down there is a liar”
“stay away from me I’ll only hurt you”
“”these sunglasses and hat will make it easier to deal with”

My first, but really second moment like this
Interrupted over and over
Spilled directly into awkwardsville
“oh well then”
Months from now in the middle of the night
Months from now in the early hours of dawn
Months from now we’ll remember this time and laugh
We’ll look back fondly
Speak of fucking and taking things fast
Speak of how better everything gets
Months after things get worse
Weeks after things get worse
Even days after things get worse
They seem to get better

Her gaze even better in real life
Better than hours of phone calls and letters
letters on a screen that have something
“nothing will ever stand in the way”
Not women you’d never meet
Not men I’ll never meet

Eight months later
Almost to the day though
Light in my eyes that makes it hard to even sleep
Darkness that makes it easy to sleep
Why is it when I feel I’ve done wrong
I can sleep better at night?
I always have more light in my head
The way I pull information though
This gigantic flashlight
A flashlight made of fire, frustration and sixteen other words that begin with the letter F

Master of Puppets

I can push and be pushed into any situation. I try to make my own decisions here and there and really, I never do. I let situations dictate them. I don’t think I’ve put more than a few minutes into a choice in a long time. I have no fucking patience for sitting around thinking if it involves other people. I can just as easily ignore people forever. I can leave them alone and never pick up the phone again if I need to. Most people can’t do this, they are weak and always cave in. I think because everyone ever has failed me I don’t put any kind of stock into people at this point. Everyone is selfish at the end of the day including me. If I had it my way right now I would disappear into the middle of the country somewhere. Miles away from the ocean and the internet and coffee and listening to people ramble on about things I have no interest in, listening to the same questions over and over. Miles away from every single person invading my privacy, family, friends, strangers, I volunteer information all the time so the invasion doesn’t really exist, but really. Someone thinks I have something interesting to say. They must be blind, or have some other motives. Hmm.

Until I get back to reality and living some sort of new routine, this routine is the one. Staring at a ceiling fan, listening to animals in the back yard, watching people read their bibles, fat housewives sucking on milkshakes disguised as coffee drinks, all whites all the time. I sleep three hours a night, the rest of the time I am waiting for some sort of alarm to go off. The rest of the time its all noise all the time. Nowhere to go to avoid their deafening voices and taunts and uninteresting feelings about life.



Early morning dream 06/02/10:
Was in some sort of pantry area trying to run some sort of device that needed to be hooked up to a tank of gas and it was not working. Tank eventually came disconnected from hose and flew around small area before crashing into a wall.



Looking back now on trips I have taken, people I’ve taken them with, certain areas of the country and which were the best. I’ve never done extensive traveling with another person really. When I did it had a specific function, moving. The whole trips were complete stressful times for the majority, and there was nothing really relaxing about those trips. Trips I’ve taken in New England have been okay. Some have been hard to deal with because of whatever weather we were having, and usually the trips were too short. I know everything that’s here at this point for the most part. I’ve been to the top of Maine and looked across a river at Canada, and to the bottom of my least favorite state, Connecticut. So I feel like I’ve seen almost every inch of New England that I need to see. It’s impossible for me to get lost in Massachusetts.

Maybe because they are more recent, or because of the company I was with, or because I am better at traveling than I was say ten years ago. My trip to Disneyland for my birthday last November with G was great. Great that it was early in our relationship and although still didn’t know each other as well as we do now, it was great to spend my birthday at that place I loved as a kid with someone I love. Our trip to Morro Bay/San Luis Obispo this past March was also great. I didn’t know if it would be the last time I saw her or not since I was moving back to Boston a couple of weeks later. That is a great area of the state and I think I really fell for her there so it was particularly bittersweet to leave that day. I couldn’t write enough shitty songs and poems about that smile and well, other things.

Now that I have been back here, and have listened to all of these songs that remind me of here and then remind me of there, I feel like I really want to go back there. I know what is here and I know what is there. I put these things on a scale the other night. Ups, downs. Pros, cons, you know...It’s noisy and crowded here. If I get to the ocean here, it is rocky and cold and I feel like I am pushed against the sea.



"Hey Charlie"
I landed on the ice with a giant “thud”, and got up immediately. I think I had been running but I’m not sure when I think back to that night. Charlie wanted to catch up with me this night, but I wouldn’t let him. I ran, and ran, and ran. Charlie always had a slew of questions to ask me. Charlie always wanted me to tell him a story “from the old days”. I liked Charlie, but he was just too much sometimes. Charlie always wanted me to lend him a cigarette, although he never gave back the “lent” cigarettes I gave him. Charlie was never in love from what I can tell. He was always telling me of some girl he was with the night before, but I was never interested. In retrospect I guess I should have been a bit nicer to Charlie. Charlie pushed. Charlie outright bugged me most of the time.

I don’t think many people knew of Charlie. I never told my friends about Charlie, or the day I met him in the coffee shop. Charlie was sitting at the stool two over from me, and when the large construction man left, Charlie introduced himself. I had seen Charlie around my building, but had no clue he lived in it. In fact, he lived right below me. I didn’t really pay attention to anyone there, except for the couple next to me, whom I HAD to pay attention to because they were so loud. Arnold and Louise, what a fucking couple they were. So anyway, this particular night, it was raining, which made the ice on the ground even more slick than it was. I was coming home from my friends’ place where we had just watched television for five hours straight. Charlie saw me turn our corner, and started in with the questions. What's up? You staying up? Every once and a while I would let Charlie in and we would hang out and get high. Tonight I wanted to go to bed right away. I’m going to bed Charlie. I’m not doing anything tonight Charlie. I started yelling a little. I’m GOING IN CHARLIE! Charlie kept at it. I started running down the street in fear at this point. After the thud on the ice, I made my way into the apartment building.

Charlie came to the door five minutes after I got in. Can I come in? Just for a minute. Charlie was in love apparently. He had mentioned this one girl a bunch of times, but I had never paid attention. I hadn’t been in love in three years, so I guess I was a bit jealous of Charlie. I all of a sudden felt a little compassion for Charlie, and listened to him. Hey remember the time you told me you fell in love with that girl, and she turned out to be your cousin? Yes I remember that Charlie. Remember you told me that it was much bigger than love, and that every time you were with her you felt like she was a part of you? Yes I remember that Charlie. That’s how I feel right now. Who is she Charlie? Her name is Darlene, and she works at the pizza place up the street. Oh, I think I know who you’re talking about, you’ve mentioned her before right? I offered Charlie a cigarette. He said he was quitting. Your loss I snapped. Darlene obviously doesn’t smoke I take it? Yes, she does. Oh. I’m going to marry her. You are? Yes, I think I am. The horoscope says I probably will. And that’s a good source of information for you Charlie? It never lies to me. How come every time I look at it Charlie, I ignore it if it doesn’t say anything good, and when it does, I ignore it anyway?

The next morning Charlie was on his way to the store when he dropped in the middle of the street. It seems a brain tumor fell him. I guess in retrospect Charlie was a good man, he just bugged me a bit too much. The one night when I finally let him have his night with me he dies the next day. I visited the pizza place after Charlie died to see Darlene. She’s at home with her husband the guy behind the counter told me. It turns out that Charlie was indeed in love with Darlene, but this was news to Darlene. Charlie wanted so bad to have love in his life but was denied it over and over, so he made up stories. I miss Charlie. I have no love either, and Charlie had some love, he seemed to love me, but I had none of it to give him when he was alive. My friends now have all gone on and pursued their dreams of moving out of this city, and into homes with their wives, and girlfriends. Today I went down to the coffee shop and sat at the counter next to this policeman. After he got up, I moved into his seat, and asked the man next to me if he was enjoying the unusually warm weather in January.



"Novembre"
Lets cut out the small talk

We are sitting next to each other and that’s all

I am not an interesting person

I am not an interested person

I have nothing to give you really

I can give you stories

I can follow you home

I am good at that

I can make you think I am someone else

I am good at that

I can let you think you know me

In the middle of the night though

I am pulling strings

I’m plotting revenge on you

You’ve done absolutely nothing to me

I know you’ve done harm to others though

I see through you all the way to Hawaii

I sit up late at night writing letters to your friends

I spend hours devising ways to harm you

I sit around inside my head

I’m no better than you

You are truly better than me, which is why I do this

You win one battle

In the end though, I win ten

You fight three battles

I fight none

And I still come out on top somehow

The second you asked me what my name was

That was the first mistake you made

You wife and kids seem nice

I’m really sorry

Really, I am.