Manic

Last winter I was ready
to let those surgeons have me, carve me
up and try to find the root of all my problems,

What was it that was driving me insane?
That mad those little meatballs in my muscles?
That turned my tiny turds that reddish green?

But now, by god, I’ve got the bastards running.
There’s nothing they can do
to stop me now.

I’m a wide-eyed, crazy, dancing
son of a mother,
with a million assholes
back there in the rear.

And I don’t care
because I know
that I have won.

Oh god, this is great!


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