Day 30: All you ever wanted

When you wake up in the morning

And your dick won’t rise with you

And your maid is late with your coffee

and viagra

and this maid calls your driver

who is late because he went to a wake

of the dead and the living who wanted your photo a-feastin’ and your fly open

and your toes showin’ and you

curse him for wakin’ later than his

bossin’ and you read the papers

and you notice they missed the quota

and the countdown is off by a thousand and they talk about the helicopter and the man who jumped off from it and landed on the crocodiles and they have not forgotten but it has not been proven

And you hear Obama fucking intellectual, writing books, teaching law, editing a law journal, and he became President, what does he know about power when he hasn’t shot a man, when he hasn’t fucked a whore, when he gets angry in a gray suit, well-pressed and bloodless? Unlike the police with the million dollar home who robs a Korean, and then chokes him and burns him and flushes his ashes off the toilet while his boss sings a rock song in a concert of hippies who worship the Pope who caused the traffic and caused you to be late for a date

with a whore, and this drug-addict lover, de Lima, whose voice reminds you of your teacher who almost flunked you in math which has no use but for counting dead bodies that smell of gun powder that gives you the high like when you’re mad 

so you decide to go on air and call the press and talk about the bullshit you go through each day 

when all you ever wanted is an angry fix. 

Yes, all you ever wanted is an angry fix.

‘tang-ina! ‘tang-ama! ‘tangnyolahat!