Bad Boy: A Poem (sort of)


Bad boy. Bad Richie. I disrupt my spiritual sideshow with questionable intentions. Intentions are always questionable. Hot in the cold and hotter in the heat. I ramble and get my point across despite my confused tongue. You know. I know. She has no idea.

Simple. Low intelligence maybe? Uneducated. Bewildered from my inconsistent actions. I am a unique breed and she can’t comprehend me. You can. Can’t you? Sometimes I understand myself and then I hide in a quiet corner of the closet with a flashlight so I can breathe. How does she breathe?

My thoughts are much more scattered since they did away with the Dewey Decimal System. You’d think that my mind would sharpen with modern technology but it’s dull. Dull. Bent. Maybe even warped a bit.

Modern science tells me why but I don’t believe them. Them. Who? Modern religion tells me a few things and I can’t hear out of my right left ear. Canada. Hmm. Far enough for hope and close enough for fear. Eat my heart again. Lumpy gooey goings on.

Celibacy is one thing but my fear of her is another. Thing. Her. Bad boy.

Maybe its not so bad. Maybe trails of bitterness lead to the road I wanted to take anyway. I made a wrong turn. Flat tire. Out of gas.

The song goes on after skipping a few times but it’s on repeat so I can take comfort in something now. Wonder what she is.

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