O’ miserable me, being under pressure
Of life, lust and other human finance!
How long you desired that you’ll never belong,
How far you’ll strive being among them one?
So, silly you! Still enjoying your yeaning conscience –
The machine installed only with pain and pathos,
Tell me how do you feel now, O’ fan of fun,
Tell me if your game is steer’d or just chaos.
O’ me, poor poet, unknowing the words –
Words that may help you in your play,
But you use them on no wealth nor on the heart of a madam –
But you paint the already dark world into your painful plaint.
Oh! Those empty words addressing diaries and deities!
Just use them, damn use them in the sake of money!
Enjoy the life as others see it: hell funny,
Enjoy the joy of flesh, blood and honey!
Even the purest girl is a matter of ware –
In the purest whorehouse as on the Sphere!
No matter! Enjoy, you’ll die out like the ideas as laisse-faire –
No matter! Enjoy, you’re dying already as my dog died, Dexter.
So, miserable me, undress your pressure as well your obstacles,
Since you are just a poor condemned and damn poet-animal –
Spend, spend your life no more under pressure,
Spend, spend it as a vital – without depression.