Letting My Fingers Run

Oh GOD, I'm not even sure
What to make of messes like these.
I'm pretty sure it was time to go, but
All that worrying is fucking weighing
Me down.
I can't determine from where the currents rip
Or to where they're trying to take me,
But I'm not entirely sure that
That's the most important thing here.

Maybe it's you who phrases things with
A European swagger or maybe
Like a Mayan who's only friend is his
Blade with which to cut out the God's
Meal.

I hope you don't think I'm being uptight,
Maybe I'm being immature.
I guess I can't tell since I'm me and can
Only know what it is I feel and see and
Taste and hear and touch and lick and
FUCK.

What else is there to me than the measurement
So kindly given to me by every single person around me?
Gabe is the base.
Dad is the money changer.
Mom is the supplier.
YOU are my scale.
WE are the riches while THEY are the poor.

Who is the poor; who is THEY?
Does it matter, are you so anxious to
Find out exactly whom I speak of?
No.
I refuse to let you know, it's all in my blood, you see!
The stone pyramids of my fathers and the Spanish blades shedding
Tears of scarlet letting the poison from my family's veins.

What else is there to be ashamed of, but uselessness?
I guess not much unless you include
Living the dream:
In class with nothing but underwear.
HILARIOUS FUCKERS!

Writing's never free, the price is time, and material, and originality.
The pavement always smells the same dry as it does wet
And what does that mean?
It means that no matter how good or bad
Your personal situation gets,
Your aroma, your spirit, your signature
Will remain the same scent, shape, and font.

I cannot and will not and shall not will and will not I
End up like the rest of them?  I mean to say I shall
Not will to be any different form what I find myself to be.

I won't change.

I am David.

No you're not.

I guess I'm gonna have to go with the Negative team on this one.
The mere fact that I'm able to deny such an
Existence is evidence that there must be
Some kind of proof that I, in fact, am
Not David.

Or perhaps that's a logical fallacy.
I guess in order to know that, I'd have to be a logical guy.
Have you read this all or is your mind wanting to pull away and crawl and break and
Shatter so that nothing's left but that damned slug?!

Your fucking slug.

Squash.
Squish.
Squarsh.
Squeish!

Gone is the slug.
"Off to find a new home," said the slayer of slugs.
"I surely hope where I end up is completely void of slugs!"
What was curious about this self-exchange
Was that the slug slayer was not very good at anything but slaying
Slugs.
So if he were to end up anywhere void of slugs,
He should be rather bored and
USELESS.