The dick-less words
You set your silly eyes upon
the glass of dreams
with ripples of past, future, and visions of today
Somewhere there’s your
living, breathing, unflinching dream
or do they call it fantasy? madness? fate?
From where I stand, it’s called uncertainty
The realm of the coward, the lazy, and the yuppies
setting sail for a future that may never be
eyeing on tomorrow with a glint of reverie
With the maybe’s, the no’s, and the aha’s
The yes, the ok, the passing nods
But the commas, phrase, rhymeless raps
The liquor, fuel of the tongue
all lead to Donnie Darko’s famous lines:
“It’s illogical. What’s the point of living,
If you don’t have a dick?”
