(daddy daddy, do you like this waltz?
you prefer the foxtrot)

i can’t say i’m sorry for never caring
if you’d let me say anything – i’d have said

who’s the screw-up now?

i can’t say i’m sorry i was so resentful
if you’d let me scream – i would cry

who’s the slavish bitch now?

i said (where is How & Why
what i say is icanttakeit
comprehend ; understand – they
are not even in that little dictionary
in your little head - -

so why, you don’t even know Why
you will systematically strangle all you know
with eyes closed
you pry inside you don’t but change
you analyze you don’t but learn you everything
but learn

and now where are you?
in grotesquely lonely pieces on the floor?
a puddle of frostbitten blood in the aftermath?
or simply an extra set of teeth in a tiny mouth?

daddy daddy, don’t dance
don’t walk with me, by me, near me
don’t cut me with your remarks of revolution
i know better, i know much better
than you seem to

but write all of this off
as exactly what is is:
a tired bitter fuck you
to the bastard in my genes.

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to read this poem in it's real format: redrush (dot) net (slash) fp (dot) icantsay (dot) txt