Feely Feely Think Think Think
It doesn’t matter what you are, it’s how you feel you are. Or how you feel what you think you are. You need to feel what you think, it doesn’t work the other way around. This isn’t a chicken and egg thing, this is crisis line stuff.
But don’t dial 911, there are people there trained to rein in people like you, try another route. Wife beating works for a while, so does cutting your husband’s dick off while he sleeps, but molesting children, that can land you in prison with people with strong feelings who don’t think at all who will take you so far down the line that when you finally get off the bus again it’s a whole different bus stop.
Feely, feely, think, think, think. You can’t even juggle two balls, what a sorry state of affairs, what a clumsy existence, what are you looking for anyway, happiness? That’s a good one, the joke’s on you, that’s all the porridge you’re going to get, slopped into a tin cup. Don’t tell us you paid your dues, your money’s no good here. How’d you get thru the door in the first place, where was the sergeant-at-arms, where was the goon squad, the brass knuckles, the tiger cage? Where was blind justice, the hitman from Toledo, the bomb full of nuts and bolts? Look what a ruckus you’ve brought about, all the confusion and mayhem, the payback. How does that make you feel, seeing your part in it?
Sure, fine, point your finger at the other guy, pretend you’re a victim, but we’ve got our eye on you. That’s right, just one eye, a big blue one in the middle of the forehead, we’re the cyclops of your pitiful hope.
Of course you’re talking to yourself, do you see anyone else in the room? What? That dark shape huddled way off in the corner, past the geysers and lava pits? Pay no attention to him, he’s worse off than you are, we try our best to ignore him.
You may think things can’t get much worse, but we’re just getting started.