This guy walks into a bar
That guy is me
That guy doesn’t know what to say to this girl
So someone suggests with sincerity—
Of all the hollow, uninspired, lame excrements of human thought
This advice is the worst
And might as well read
because tell me, wise man,
Who is the “myself” I’m to be to you?
Myself is accustomed to customs
And I can never really be free to be me
Scratch my ass, lick my plate, kiss the dog, sing off key
Run through halls, slap the queen (it’s just a game) but I’d slap your back just the same;
I’d say you’re fat (it’s likely true); thumb my nose at the men in blue.
Is this the me you want me to be?
Or is how I am determined by you?
I don’t know the many MEs of ME so how can you tell ME what to be?
Is that really it?
Don’t you know you’re full of—
Would the me you know say that?
You say no
Who’s this dude who speaks so crude
Maybe I am myself right now but you don’t know because
The you that’s me you thought you knew was just an imposter through and through. Maybe you want me to be a yester me
Simply because it favors you
When there’s so much MohammeDalaiLamaKrishnApostlePeterPandaExpressChineseFortuneCookieMonster wisdom
How can anyone know how to be?
Maybe it isn’t at all about “be this or be that.”
There is only
Which is for cookie
That’s good enough for me.