I’m losing touch with Here and Now.
I feel my senses ossify.
I trap myself in narratives
Which paint me as the Goody Guy.
I use ’em as my Don’t-you-see.
I use ’em as my How-can-I.
I use ’em as my Like-you-would.
You come and try to help me out,
I push you back and run away.
You try to show the way to go,
I show my ass without delay.
I thank you for the time you spend.
And thank you that you come to try.
But I will not respond to you
Until I shake this Goody Guy.
If you can help me scratch my scripts,
And sit with me to hear me cry,
As everything I’ve built as walls
I decimate, then nullify,
If you can hold my naked Self,
Defenseless, mewling, scared to die,
I may consider changing now,
To rise beyond this Goody Guy.