I want to kill
A little bit of me.
I want to disconnect
and the gloom.
I want to lose
That kept my parts on me.
I want to join
That invade me
As if I was rotten by now.
I want to forget my name
Leave behind any trace
Of the vast empire of happy days
When I didn’t have scars
Of this sweet and sour reality
Hidden behind the bars
Of a world of broadcasted freedom.
I want to survive myself
To find my inner child on google
To get wings put together with wax
And watch the sun arise
Just to feel the fall
And the failure.
I want to divorce from myself
On those noon tv shows
Where you have to be
Post trauma stressed
Non cover girl looking
To apply to the magnanimous sense of universal pity.
I want to hire
A personal trainer who only drinks vitamin colored water
And does the most rainbow looking digestion,
A personal nutritionist who feed me
With flavorless food
And Brad Pitt ambitions,
A personal trainer that makes my body looks the farthest way possible of my current body
That way I can vote for myself on reality shows
Without the infinite guilty
That keeps awake the egocentrics.
I want to get hacked
By midnight lonely geeks
With aggressive skin problems.
I want my software infected
By spyware, destructionware and troyans
That way my soul
Is going to move
In any crazy direction
That the ones and zeros dictate.
I want to stop being my own god
And put my destiny on the hands
Of yoga, pilates or other mats oriented religions.
I want to stop being a romantic
And get as soon as possible a real state license
I want to call myself Mister Thompson
And have a perfect
Two adorable kids that never learned Spanish
And one expensive dog with a wardrobe of its own.
I want to be a planet for myself
And push that tiny shiny red button
That way I can blow the universe
And only keep the tropic.
I want to get rid of me.