The Last Man on Earth

Backpack is a doorstop Booze, books, torn flip flops Thrown away like dish rags Sour melodies Flows, fissures, dislodged Sunk enough to hide track-marks From friendships, family, romances Obfuscating clemency Regress from streets a callow precipice Familiarity and a pallbearers friendliness Carving steep chasms Shallow and helplessly I am not alone And I want to be myself I am not alone And I want to be myself Racetracks and violins Violence is vital and confiscating Nobody wants a tourist Or a visitor Inevitable or spontaneous The undertaker knows that it's good for business Silent like a suitor Or a calligrapher Combinations or networks Mesmerizing sentences inscribed from literature Into elbows excess skin and furniture I am not alone And I want to be myself I am not alone And I want to be myself