I am tired of the labels
that have stuck to me
like gum at the bottom
of my shoes. So I relieved
myself in the backyard.
Why did the neighbor just
look away and mind his
own business? I am sick
of the old talk about me.
When I am in the heavens
they will continue talking
about me. They love to talk
about me without really
knowing my pain. I am not
going to worry anymore
about the people who keep
following me in their drone
spaceships. I think I will sue
everyone that keeps me in
the hospital for no reason.
I suppose I can invent a new
star that never dies. I can
move to Sin City where the
chips implanted into my head
will not work because of all
the bright lights. I will sell
the new star to the highest
bidder and make a killing like
the time I won a million dollars
in a Las Vegas slot machine.