# The Ego Poem

Author: Care A Lot
Tags: No-Yiff, Other, Poetry

Dude,as of late, I have been tormented from my Dad's criticizing me of being "all about me". Ok, so I am "all about me" here. Yet, I am not altogether happy, and I acknowledge that, in front of others, others who, I believe, care. To SweetBlackPaws, to Jason, this is dedicated. Thank you, Great Universe, for loving me through all of my shit.

I have an obsession with myself.

Unhealthy?  Sure, but who's counting. 

Not me. 

What can I put in my body?

Why do I feel people I don't even know are staring at me?

I have an obsession with myself.

I stay in my room, and bed, most of the time.

I am starting to see the feeling of meaninglessness of my job, because nobody is really happy anymore, nobody.  Nobody. 

Except me.

Ha.

Ha.

I have an obsession with myself.

I like things just so.

If things are not just so, I flip out inside my mind, and then chaos is added on more chaos. 

There is something weird, and wrong here.

I have an obsession with myself.

I like drugs, and alcohol.

I do, oh yes, I do.

Four Loko, Coricidin, Robitussin, gobble, gobble, chug, chug, it's all good, yum, yum, I need this, I need this to enhance my life, man. 

I've tried to talk baby talk.

I've tried to become more of a "let down my cool" thing, break down my abused emotional wall. 

What does it matter?  Most of the people I wait on at my store are still numb assholes who desire nothing more than what they want, which is beef, and meat, and dairy.  I run, and get it for them, perfect.  I, for the most part, do it with a smile, and a "How do you do?"  All the while, I am thinking that I would rather be writing, or stripping, or anything, anything _fun_.  Anything not to deal with the nimrods of society.

I want to be Miss Kitty.

Yeah, Great Mouse Detective stripper mouse.

I need to be her, have to be her, have to be saved from my Western Christian background, and Western Christian redemption. 

I want to be beautiful.  I do not feel I am beautiful. 

I have an obsession with myself.

Yes, I do.

I thought a lot of my customers were assholes last night, too.

Yes, I did.

I try to be careful, though, to plan everything out according to what makes sense. 

Of course, what makes sense is just what makes sense to me.  Or, is it?  I don't know anymore.  I don't know about a lot of stuff.  I can guarantee one thing, that my life is pretty unmanageable.  Somehow, through the grace of God, I go on, and that's that. 

Life is strange, odd, too.  Yes, I am a little drunk right now, but I would not even say drunk, because my ass was drunk last night, and how.  Today, I do not think I even have to say it, but I am speaking of the heart, and laying my true, nasty self down, so that others may not repeat the same shit.

I breathe, and I look around my stepfather's office.  I wonder if I will remember even posting this fifteen minutes from now.  I am just glad that I had the will to write this today, to spill my guts when the demons of mine wanted me to stay silent, and whimper, and die. 

I will not die.  I may be high as a fucking kite sometime today, but I will not die.  No, I will continue to write, because the heart can never be _high_. 

_The heart is always high_.  And although I hate to admit it, there is a God somewhere, or a force that people call God.  There is _something_.  I just wish I had been innocent enough to choose God on my team with complete free will.

I have an obsession with myself.

I reach out a paw to you, and you, and you.

Yes, I do, for I try to make myself care,

but I am number one, or at least that is what my "lego my Ego" heart says.

I am number one.

I have an obsession with myself.

I am number one.

I have an obsession with myself.

Are you?

Do you?

Thank you.

 

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/lmX4V4ym