Freudian Slip Hari Kari
"Don't think your ends justify the means
When your knives imply the screams"
-Anonymous
There’s nothing lonelier than the open web
Though spiders have spun it
Even they leave solitary flies to starve to death
The sound of wings rubbing
Your antennae writhing, it’s disgusting
You invited all of your friends
But nobody will rest under your digital canopy
And revel in your imagery
And crumpets with raspberry jam
So even you don’t eat the meal you’ve prepared
And honestly,
Did you think anybody would read the driveling
The extended amplifications of a teenager’s sniveling
I think it’s funny how blood and tears blend in droplets
But you probably don’t, lying on the bathroom tile
I’m sorry for the dry cleaner who has to get out these stains
I’m sorry for the counselor who has to listen to you
But I’m certainly not sorry for you
Seriously,
Are the Hot Topic wristbands covering wounds
Or are they managing to cover your shame too
I can’t wait until you sneak into your father’s room
Take down his prized samurai sword from atop the dresser
Glaze the sword, emblazon your depression
By performing the Freudian Slip Hari Kari
All over your mother’s oriental rug
Instead of my superego’s bandwidth
When your knives imply the screams"
-Anonymous
There’s nothing lonelier than the open web
Though spiders have spun it
Even they leave solitary flies to starve to death
The sound of wings rubbing
Your antennae writhing, it’s disgusting
You invited all of your friends
But nobody will rest under your digital canopy
And revel in your imagery
And crumpets with raspberry jam
So even you don’t eat the meal you’ve prepared
And honestly,
Did you think anybody would read the driveling
The extended amplifications of a teenager’s sniveling
I think it’s funny how blood and tears blend in droplets
But you probably don’t, lying on the bathroom tile
I’m sorry for the dry cleaner who has to get out these stains
I’m sorry for the counselor who has to listen to you
But I’m certainly not sorry for you
Seriously,
Are the Hot Topic wristbands covering wounds
Or are they managing to cover your shame too
I can’t wait until you sneak into your father’s room
Take down his prized samurai sword from atop the dresser
Glaze the sword, emblazon your depression
By performing the Freudian Slip Hari Kari
All over your mother’s oriental rug
Instead of my superego’s bandwidth