The Devil

My happiness has been contaminated
Those egotistical yuppies couldn’t care less
My pocket book is deranged
Torn between the will to give and help myself
I wish I could give them all the finger and say
You egotistical yuppies don’t give a shit about me
& I won’t give you anymore of my soul
But it’s harder than you can imagine
To sow this hole in my pocket book
You’re just fine with that
It’s raining money for the rich
What if everyone was as ungrateful as I am?
Well, thank God I can say that’s virtually impossible
‘cause my happiness has been contaminated
Such a tragedy would be meaningless if that were the common for man
The world would not define happiness the same way
& mankind would exist in a different manner
And so would you egotistical yuppies who so willfully profit off my contaminated happiness
And to think I feel guilty for stealing your semi- charming music
To think you’d lock me up and kill my pocketbook
But why does it matter?; Henry Young survived three years of solitary confinement
I am a solitary man, seldom lonely
And my life has brought very little joy
If I died in a cell at the bottom of the world, why would I care?
The injustice would be painstaking, but I know you won’t care or even listen to my side of the story
People like me are an inconvenience to you
Better off dead, I suppose
Yet the prospect of death scares me
It feels confusing and pointless
Much like my life and everything/everyone in it
They say better the devil you know than the devil you don’t know and I know it’s true when I think of death
People talk of life after death
I think it’s a ridiculous concept
True, it may be, but why bother trying to define the unknown?
Why bother pretending to know the unknowable?
Because the unknown is confusing and scary
Fear must be avoided they say
It’s a useless emotion they say
They don’t want to live a well rounded life
They think marriage and employment and the like are the most important things
I know the difference between a robot and a human being
It seems many don’t care or simply don’t know
People try to define emotions, label and store them as if they have any claim over them
Ungrateful for their existence
As humans, ungrateful to FEEL alive
It ends eventually, yet you feel content to pretend to know that your life after this one will be a good one
Well, I suppose a false notion of happiness is better than a real notion of eternal suffering
Perhaps you have your reasons for pretending to be alive and acting like it’s not an act
Not that I’m the expert on happiness
As I said, my happiness is contaminated
My happiness comes in strange forms
I’d rather feel scared or mournful than tear out my heart and replace it with batteries
I’d rather let my tears fall than tear out my eyes and replace them with marbles
I’d rather admit I shed those tears than let people go astray from what they are and give their money to some mediocre piece of cinema
Perhaps you can sleep at night knowing some heartless film took profit over a film that engaged and provoked emotions from its audience
Perhaps you can sleep knowing you make the rules for the sake of breaking the most naked of honesty
Perhaps you can sleep knowing that your fellow men are no longer men but rather machines and
Perhaps they feel fine with no confusion over how they feel, perhaps they feel fine because they feel nothing thanks to your blanket of rumors
I know your father made you do it; men have been this way for many many many years
But your father is bitter and cruel
I wouldn’t blame you if you killed him and tried to start the world over, make it fresh and beautiful
But as much as it hides in you, the fact still remains
The devil you know is always better
Than the Heaven you’ve never seen

June 14th, 2008