I do not want to argue anymore
Show me the way to the door
I would rather slum it surfing couch to couch
Than hide from life as I slack and slouch
Look down upon from your self-righteous horse
Insults hurled til your voice is hoarse
And "wouldn't you feel bad if I died?"
As if unaware of how I feel inside

Too much of a fool
Forgotten and misplaced
Troubled until bled

Where is my bed?
The cushion increasing sedation
Upon my relapse

Frail
Almost skeleton
Reminds me of Auschwitz

Though I'm not a Jew
Or a so-called "deviant"
I'm recast

Believing in the brew
Gulping up the stew
Ready, set...implode

Film is shot
Grainy and poor
Full to the brim with fish

Smelly and grimy
Waiting for the director
To bail from comprehensive casting

His retort is strong
Like a solemn wind
Quiet until the storm

I quit
Remember the time
Forced to sing

I hate acting
Forgetting
Contemplating

It is my curse
Unforgotten desire
My Dunkirk of woe

When will it end?
Upon my cross
Submission without *******

Freewill intact
Instinct going into purgatory
Left to wait for the call

I have to run
Hide
Devise an escape

Hollywood calls
Controls
Beckons for my crouch

Billy Wilde is my name
Focused on terror
I fail to be Brando