Where are You Going?

There are dolphins in Venice

the highways are free.

God, please keep this virus alive.

I finally have an excuse to thrive;

surpassing all previous highs.

What a beautiful time to be alive.

Everyone is scared and sad;

I’m glad. 

Most of my friends are fuck-ups

and addicts: beer, weed, pills.

The thought of living their lives’

gives me the chills.

But at least they aren’t boring.

They aren’t walking around

with sticks up their asses, and

Teslas draining their lives.

I’d rather stake my lot with the

sad, dejected souls, as opposed

to the cat-face phonies of LA.

Everyone suffers, except 

an enlightened few.

Yet, the Buddhists don’t have

shit to say. They just sit,

cross-legged, waiting for the end; 

no need for friends, or sin.

A bunch of boring, bald-headed,


I’d set one on fire, for a laugh.

They should thank me,

for freeing them from their shell,

or, maybe not, in which case—

I’ll see you in Hell.

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