King of The Idiots


Peeling back the skin.

Pushing the pleasure in.

Holding the great escape

under the tongue,

and a gun

in the palm of your hand.


Never really were the type

to ask a lot of stupid questions.

Standing out in the fields,

never making all those empty gestures.

For you it was always

about getting down

to business.


All the way in,

or all the way out.

You never saw any middle ground

in this.

Pushing it in ,

and pulling away again.


Loving the way the light looks

when you’re playing along the edge.

One second away

from cutting it off,

crashing the car,

cashing your chips in.

I’ll never forget

the way you grin.


Excited and nervous laughter.

Never sure,

but never scared.

Heavy petting every disaster.

Something about you

would draw them in.


I never asked,

and you’d never tell.

What was Heaven to them,

would have been your Hell.


You never fit the style,

you never heard the call.

I think sometimes

you’d wish

that the world would open up

and swallow us all.


Reductionist to think

you simply didn’t care.

pulling back the layers,

push it in,

there’s still some feeling there.


You didn’t end up

dead or numb,

just like the rest.

Only the wise followed you,

only idiots

celebrate your death.



HG – 2020

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