here's your fucking crown

[yellowbellyworm]

these poems are
incessant, at best (worst).
they plunder through my
head like
a parade you
mapped in honor of
yourself, complete with
floats and a firework
finale, "Poet" impressed upon
the city skyline. how
quaint, ideed. here,
you'll get the crown
you've always wanted,
a flimsy fake with
jewels attatched, and
even a red-carpet. you
won't tell
anyone
you rolled it out
for yourself. and i
can just imagine the
crowd. a bunch of
stupid junkies who
call you because you
like it like that, you
only roll with
the weak because
you know they'll
let you weedle with
their drug-dulled skulls.
but may i
ask. is this too much
of a question
(?) who

is going to call
you for your
prescious
pills and
powder once
the prison walls have
you hidden, once
again? where you
gonna get your
kicks then? are you
sure your
fancy asain friends
are gonna throw the
dough to bail
you out? these
are questions i
won't ever
put before you. these are
battles you know you know
you'll lose, when
it comes
to it. and maybe then,
once all this emotion
has you strapped
to an empty
bed with three
scheduled shit courses per day
you'll open your eyes
and
scream. i
hope your
vocal chords don't fail.