I am an isolation

I am an isolation,
I'm a broken heart
I'm a cigarette without a light.

I'm a person who's been waiting
2 years for a call on the phone
or a call from the door.

Hey, its 1996, SteppenWolfe
he don't exist within this
time (tho' why do I feel

1,000's of hands write these
words). Okay so 'we' are not
the charismatic 'heroes' that

we worship - who characteristically
are deferential to the fervour
of homage given to them.

I.e. the people we liked.
Within their genes is love
and what is beautiful. We - the

unwashed - just have to love,
revere them. Suck toes, ground,
dicks, assholes, any orifice.

To prove we believe in them.
Tho' we too have a life, an
existence - an exit-stance.

Tho' SteppenWolfe realises
we're inbetween a confusing
time - a time when

breath - came free to
when it was choked
from a facial orofice

called a mouth - that lost its
meaning as everyone
talked when you wished to.

Like who is our god
he's a human, just like me.
I hate him - I want his

woman - and I don't give
a shit - really he's a wanker
and a despot.

I'm bled dry - no one gives
me the time of day. Is
this called (dear Bill) ENVY.

Christ a rhyme - within a
20th century poem what a joke.
There's 3 million sentences

within each line - now 50 million
before I reach the end. Maybe
60 million voices screech.

Now that would be weird.
I'm a sad bastard (not familial) with
a perverted attitude.

There's no end to this
as time never ends
and who ever wants a

good thing to end.
Surely the Goddess in
her heaven doesn't...?

(Nearly a happy ending to a
poem - must be thinking
of Cornerstone!!)