Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Good

I'm trying to be good, but I don't know what good is.
Is it being my parents?
They're nice people, but they got a fucked up marriage
and both of them inside of one person is just too much tension for good to be worth it.
I'm trying to be good, but I don't want to buy things
I don't need just to point and say 'see, those are
my things,'
but I've got clothes and TV's and books I don't read
because they're not there to be read,
they're there to be seen
to sit and to say that these things
that I didn't make belong to me
because I paid out of wages
that I got at a job where I don't sew, act, or edit
that isn't a factory, a set, or apartment.
But they tell me it's good work
or at least that it's honest;
that I'm being productive,
but I think they mean harmless.
I'm trying to be good, but my country
keeps changing
the names of the people I'm supposed to be hating
and its hard to keep track
of which of my neighbors
needs killing and saving
and maiming
which banners we burn
and which we keep waving.

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