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we became gods

we became gods
in our own eyes,
but monsters
in those of our beholders

artists, madmen,
staring blankly at the moon -
we spoke of philosophy
and the slow death of the soul
(yeah, we knew
we were dying inside,
and more importantly,
god was already dead)

we wanted
to travel the country,
to travel the world
even though
the world was decaying
amongst a cluttered
collage of ideas
in some man's garage

we wanted
to experiment
and have new experiences,
divine experiences of the mind

(i made it,
half way to the toilet
before vomiting)

"i think this is the end -
remember me, sally"

we became gods,
we died and decayed inside,
the world became a breeding ground
for our insanity

they saw us as monsters,
but our eyes were open -
we saw what
they didn't want to,
what we didn't want to
(and that's why we drank)

we drank to hide from the world
and to hide the bullshit from ourselves

liquors became our gods
(they distracted us
from what we didn't want to know)

but we did know,
and that's what drove us mad

no one understood us,
we experimented
with our madness,
trying to take joy
in simple things
before our souls rotted
(we knew it was coming)

i woke up behind a dumpster this morning
and there's a vulture circling the new york skyline

3/1/15

Poetry by Thomas Perdue