Authentic, dark and dirty is the undercurrent surfed

Dark and dirty apartments like mine which I live in proudly.
Photo by Sunrise on Unsplash
It's impossible not to be changed by my old, humming fridge,
sturdy, unphased by its lack of futuristic appeal,
a white box born cool, not yet collected
for the landfill, still eating my ice cream
and vomiting it out on command,
talking the way it talks-- brrrrr

Authentic, dark and dirty,
Authentic, dark and dirty,
so I've been born an ugly man,
too awkward and too nerdy,
long dead before I'm killed,
a hungry zombie unfulfilled,
I want to eat your brains,
I want to eat your brains.

It's impossible not to be changed by my gray walls.
They look at me. I look back at their molding, furrowed,
it seeks to browbeat me, but I can't be cowed.
I shall not be mooed.

My hand bursts from my dirty home,
I walk slow, but you're bound to trip
over your tasteless garden gnome,
into your your shoulder I will rip
with fake teeth I've been buried with,
my life spent with poor dental health
won't save you from my undead grip
I belch out pieces of a belt.

I've matured the way my old apartment matures
with an old tub better than those recent,
deep, deeper than pooled learning
of performers in conference rooms presenting
with software built by builders building babel 
shaken by thunder, struck by light inevitable,
confusing establishment upholders,
their hierarchy undermined
by a fart I let out in the bath.  










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