The Tragic Musician

A beer bottle
A ping pong table
A scratchy throat
A cigarette
A held-out note
A serenade
A punch--somewhere
A steel-toed boot
A broken tv
A way to figure out your surroundings

You in Hell, my friend?
You fucked up, didn't you?
Well, forgiveness is cheap
But people are cheaper

You speak Spanish?
Dutch?
Ugandan?

Don't be clever, asshole
You ain't got time for clever

You gotta turn this around
Dry off your sweat
Don't lick it off
Like it's candy
You fuckin' slob

Put this down somewhere
In ink, if you have to
Just don't forget

Never forget
That forgetting
Is your worst
Enemy

You hear that?

That's somebody telling you
That if you push
You can still do it
You can still give birth
You are not dried up

You have one more labor in you
And that will push you past your cracks
Past the fragility of your nature

Who says you're not a fucking poet?
And who says your genre is non-specific?
And who says you're repeating yourself?
And who says you're repeating yourself?

Who, huh?

How do you think this night's gonna end?

With a whimper?
With a bang?
With a bottle?

Walk outta here, kid
Walk before you fall
Before you pass out
Before your eyes close
Before it's all
Fucking
Done

Understand?

Get up
And get out
And don't stain the pavement
On the way

You feel like a cliche, huh?

Boy, you gotta earn the right
To be anything
In this world

A cliche
Is no different

You're no different

You got that?

You wanna die
Go earn the right to die

Otherwise you fizzle
Okay?

Fizzle

ZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

Out like that

Like a light
That was never a light

Like a busted bulb

Like a cracked bottle

See how that is?

It all comes back

It all comes back
Until you can't return it
To get something else

Until all you can do
Is finish
What you started