Unique moods, special energy.
Saying no to much of life.
Maybe no energy at all, but slow motion.
Wanting to be entertained, not dead.
Wanting to sit and soak
in room-temperature coffee.
Wanting to dance like a loose rag doll
with the prettiest waitress
at that sloppy diner with fungus.
Listening to The Fall.
Like Bob Dylan, only far more.
Is it far worse?
Keep drilling the monotone at me.
Seeming psychosis,
the kind that can be left behind.
Leaving me almost not wanting,
like a stringy dish cloth
pulled through teeth of a garbage disposal.
Take-and-bake pizza, oven buzzer blows.
Can I take it out, can I cut it up?
The Fall gives me that poisoned feel.
It is good poisoned,
like when no one needs you,
no one loves you,
no one knows where you are,
no one wants you.
Looser than my normal slouch,
gooey liquid slowly descending
around all sides of the chair.
My body, a shaky, sweaty, dead blanket.
stillfugue 
#1 by Evelyn on February 19, 2011 - 9:23 pm
last stanza is my favorite. clear image…
#2 by Jamie Dedes, all rights reserved on February 20, 2011 - 4:50 pm
Wow! There are so many truism tucked into this poem … It’s wonderful. I’m not sure I’ve listened to this group. I’ll have to check them out. No doubt I stay to much among my classical music pieces.
#3 by Carl on February 20, 2011 - 6:46 pm
Be ready for Monotone with The Fall. They’re a bit avant garde on the pop scene. I’d be safer to stick to my classical! 🙂 Thanks for your comment!
#4 by siubhan on February 24, 2011 - 1:52 pm
Lots of awesome lines here; I think I like that next-to-last verse best, and its description of “good poisoned.” Hmm. Wonder what that says about me? Maybe I should check out this music you speak of.
#5 by Carl on February 24, 2011 - 7:38 pm
Oh thank you so much! The Fall has a way of making me feel like a relatively normal person after listening to how nuts they are, but it’s fun.