the emperor is naked

How much gossamer bullshit do you wrap yourself in each day?

There are afternoons I can't get the stink of it off me.
Oh, but how it glitters...

So many ideas, dreams, flights of fantasy--
brilliant, lofty, radiant--
they don't do a damn thing for the sag in my middle.

All my roles and airs:
boss man, brother, Buddha wannabe
just masks that look good from the inside
when my dick's still wagging in the wind.

"Into action!"

Naked. Into the shower.

All the good intentions and helpful books
and wise sayings in the world
are just so much dirt
circling of the drain.

Best to get rinsed down
into the plumbing of the now
like a wadded Kleenex nibbled by rats.
Transcend Mr. Wilde and realize
the stars are in the gutter...