i won't die

on a foggy
winter
morning
covered by nothing but the computers' flickering glow
the fat cat snoring in her corner
dreaming in rhyme as my avatar changes into some kind of an angel or
snowflake
maybe even a bloody ax in the sand
which would lead people to believe that
i am still here
i guess this is a poem
for all of those who can't stand to breathe
the stench of their own stink
who no longer care enough to
get out of bed
eat
or
find a job
for those who don't feel like editing their drunken
slop of a poem
fuck, u, u know it's that time of the year
for all you losers
watching a tv show about being reconnected
with god
or
a lost family member or something called, hope
for those sick of all the sugary bullshit or just bull
for all those closet billy idol fans
for those who never did any drugs
but were simply born
too slow
for the obese armchair activist
inhaling his third pizza hut pizza
for the girl who thinks she's gonna make it big
by fixing her nose
for the generic shut-in
who only writes about roses
because he has seen all the ugly in the world
and wants to forget
all the Lucilles putting his last dollar in the jukebox
instead of washing baby clothes
for all those who find their last rebel yell
when the sheriff comes with the eviction notice

for the time love left you breathless
on a beach full of sun.

..................................................