Fat Dumb and Happy's blog: "The only thing worse than bad poetry....."

I fooled you. I made you believe. My intent to disarm, dissuade and deceive you has brought me success. A false sense of security, I can hear your breathing ease, just because of the rising sun. The night is over for now; the terrors that come with the night go with the night. You turn your back to me, nestled in the comfort of a clean smelling, worn out, old blanket. You rest your head between the headrest and the window; glass, metal and steel separates you, protects you from that world. Barely a whisper, “Thank you.” drifts off your lips as we drive away.

Posers, wannabes, and make believe. They don’t want to. Sad and pathetic, this teen-age angst prolonged. Adults you all are, what serves its purpose perpetuating? Exactly what you fear, an end to presumed innocence-ignorance. Fame does not seek that which is already corrupt. Fortune no longer wines and dines the fallen. A remedy? I’m a fool to think we seek one; A bigger fool to believe there’s no profit in it. Posers, wannabes, and make believe.

Pretends, cannot touch it; can only look as I touch myself. I know down deep, a slut’s a slut…takes one to know one I say. Behind the leer, behind the make-up and costume, I see little pretties, much too young for me. Lust filled tarts of sweetness. Pretends, will not touch it; disgusted at myself for not seeing; disgusted for believing it real. The older I get the harder and harder it gets to tell; everyone wants-pretending to be a slut today. So where’s the crime? In me, because I cannot see? In youth because they want-pretend it is truth?