m/s dark generation & co.

an old man worries about his advancing years
a hundred walks to the BT Park only makes
the statue taller, his life only shorter
nostalgia is the only comfort: his dead wife knew it well
but her life was as empty as my dreams

his son, the father, is the father of the land—he says;
this father has every song for every drinking den in the valley
he is the president of a thousand joint action committees
of murders and robberies and more murders and more robberies
while every morning brings a new stale day of nothingness

and the younger wife takes solace in motherhood
as if it counts in the cocoon of assault rifles and heroin
she can be ignored and things that make her life are all absurdities
like putting a goddess on the high pedestal, she has been;
at such height it is at anybody’s reach to curse her

and their two brain-dead kids, probably high
they talk about spanish football clubs
they talk about the number-one pop star in korea
the world is not fair and they have proven it; but none matters
i’m just a lifeless gas-less lighter, lost and listless


read a related article: All in the Family



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