google the end.

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i googled it——
"why can't I be happy"——
& found it
it's not my fault,
it's the chemicals,
the synapses
misfiring, the switchboard
blowing up like a bieber meme on twitter,
it's my parents, my habits,
if i could just be reborn
from another vagina, have another
brain, or jog
ten minutes a day,
drink more bottled water,
i could crush my zoloft
into lines that sylvia plath could snort.
i could see the
sun smiling &
trees growing in
fast forward like
a beautiful acid trip;
i could throw away those high school hoodies
& start wearing cardigan sweaters.
i could live the good life of
walmart stickers &, like a mazda 3,
zoom zoom forever
into a perpetual sunrise...

but then i realized,
i hate cardigan sweaters
and walmart can suck a dick——
sorry, that's the chemicals——
again the goddamn chemicals
standing between the american dream &
i, the self that can't shake the blues
like robert johnson couldn't shake the cyanide.

i think i sold my soul to
the devil when i was a child
& now the devil makes three in my chemicals.

zoloft is the second coming of christ,
the first coming was just a premature money shot
of god's love all over earth's face,
the second being a kick ass apocalypse
filmed by mel gibson & going straight to DVD——

& maybe i am just waiting to fall in love during
that zombie apocalypse,
happiness being the mingling
of blood & flesh like
a new communion of heaven & earth.

the swagger's creed.

i believe in the infinite possibilities.

i believe in the finite breath—

rolled and lit like a joint until
the breath is a cough and the buddha is high.

i believe all the prophets are high,
& priests are sometimes godless;

i believe in the beauty of the human body,
i affirm our human skin—

skin like divine gold,
wrought of blood & sweat &
gods too drunk to stumble home.

i believe in lust—
lust is a meth baby shrieking in the wilderness,
love and hate its parents too fucked up to give a shit;

i believe emotion has its place
but reason reigns supreme.

i believe in swag.

swag this, swag that.
we need more swag, bitches.
more riches,
less money;
more acting,
less talking.

i believe in a jesus who swags—

swags right out of heaven &
beat-boxes his way to hell.

i believe the universe is a rap battle
& whoever has the biggest dick wins.

i believe the gods have dicks
& like to slap us in our faces:
cock slaps here, cock slaps there—
gods have cocks for all their children.

i believe in the power of language
& the music that is time.

time is the essence of the motherfucker
& motherfuckers have the biggest balls.

time has the balls to kill us all
& we can't say shit.
"we all die someday," we say,
because that's time...motherfucker.

time has swag
but death has more.

death grabs its crotch
& shanks us in the face.

death is a pussy that shanks our face until it is blue.

pussy-shanked by death
is the human condition.

to be human is not to think or feel.
to be human is to suffocate under death's vagina
until we can no longer feel our faces.
(mother earth is the real casey anthony,
will mother earth please stand up?)

you will not live forever, Methuselah.
death's vagina is coming for you
& you will lose all your swag.

& i believe in the hope of another life,
i believe in the kingdom to come.
i believe in the emancipation of us
from all this bullshit
& into the heavens above.

(that's a metaphor.)

i believe in the infinite swag
burning low inside the human heart.
someday we will find it
& rise up on the wings of eagles
& cock slap the gods' faces in return.

(that's a fact.)