I
wonder if you're dead and buried in a short
coffin,
beef-jerky muscles wasted on meth
and
misanthropy, daddy's money long spent.
Was
the aroma of Ben Gay and rot in the air
while
all the ex-footballers cum used car
salesmen
wept quietly in their hand-
kerchiefs
thinking about the glory days? I wonder
if
your cheerleader wife stayed when you lost
your
hair. When you got inside her, was there
anything
there? Did you even win your blond
medal?
What a waste you were. Timmy,
you
hated me because I saw through you
to
the void where your soul should've been,
and
I knew, no matter how fast you ran,
you'd
never outpace it. But all I had to do was wait
to
get past you. Timmy, I hated you because you ruled
the
world from the inside, because you always won
even
when you needed to learn how to lose.
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