Jen

A statistic;

nothing bothers me more
than to see it come to this---
one moreface in an endless sea
of insololence and depthless poverty.

Now you're a drone of everyday,
pregnant with the maybies
of some odd, lost father;
curse your bastard hopes and heartless dreams!

Is this what you want from life?
Will you die in your bed at the Budget Inn,
staring at yellowed wall paper, the wife
of some lost romantic day dream?

Will you give up your hope
for mellow methamphetamines
that serve only to stifle
the noise of your internal machines?

What a miserable existence...

Go home, Jen;
Go back to where you belong.
There's nothing left to do but to try again
after you know your wrong.