Friday, September 08, 2006

desert syndrome

My good man, could ya spare some change,
or maybe a smoke, or a numbing pill
Perhaps the taco meat in your teeth
Anything to seal the deal

I’m not able to snatch that
dumpster inhabiting pizza crust
Mind influences gnawed off my fingers
Now it is the voice in my head that I cuss

Tried to ignore the riddles, belittling,
and influences of self mutilation
So what’s your storey, mister?
Healthy family, foreign car,
successful occupation

I almost had that once, but instead
got sent to the desert, and into battle
Unknowingly exposed to invisible toxins
Left like a baby with no rattle

I have no regrets
Served my nation proudly
and didn’t die
Still waiting to hear back from someone
at the V.A. about my situation

Oh well,
Semper Fi!


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