Something Impending

I need help! Does anyone know a shrink who'd be willing to say I'm too mentally ill to work? I'm lookin' to retire real soon. It can't go on like this much longer. I start my internet search for shrinks now.


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE

Something Impending
All this time our sophisticated egos have been shitting out skeletons.
Spring thunderheads blacken the sky, suck in the seagulls, wait.
Bald guys with butterfly nets are scampering naked through the roses.
They are coming for you and your quest for relevance and love.
They are coming for me and my soul's macabre bric-a-brac bullshit.
Tick-tack-toe and the clowns with machine gun bowties are free.
Would you like some more coffee, O sweet-leech, before the endtime?
May I kiss you for memory's scrapbook? I'm not alive unless I kiss you.
The storm blots the morning, thunder-muting our senseless protest.
Is it too late to guerilla market our poems, or whore for peace?
As kids we figured out this hand-me-down cosmos was dark farce,
We flew over the ruins of adult dreams and vowed to never give in.
Eyeballing well the puppets' toil we pretended our strings gone.
Older now, unraveled: your lunatic syntax makes me nervous.
The bald gods fist-beat the door and fuck it, I'm letting them in.