Too many people and too many words,
I feel sick to my pit.
I might throw my undigested,
Or could very well shit.
The concentric layers are too crowded,
I can smell their underarms from here.
What's hidden, isn't always interesting,
Especially if it's everywhere.
My life is making the obligatory circles,
Like when you flush your shit.
In this case I am it, that panics and flits,
Before it disappears in it.
Hustle and grit, mind full of shit,
It's getting dark here now.
But I'm an incompetent asshole,
Needed to be dead somehow.
Down the pipe I summarily go,
Round and round compulsively spun.
I realize now the meaning of existence,
The power in an ordinary flush cistern.
But I'm full of shit, this is where I fit,
I don't deserve anything but this.
I've lived too long, almost fifty strong,
Net by weight a lot of shit and piss.
