After the Tour

I played my way
up and down
the west coast,
living on a diet of
van fumes and
ramen noodles.

It was heroic
in a time where
all the heroes
had gotten desk jobs
and gone to sleep.
I was awake,
and I was furious.

I sang my weight in syringes.
I laughed at a girl for loving me.

“You and everyone else, bitch.”

Last week,
my parents spent
my 38th birthday
praising me
for almost tying my shoes.
All of my friends
have forgotten I exist,
even though I’m
the last great rock star.

Turns out this shit was cool
when I was 25.
Everyone who loved me
has sold out
and had kids.

I hate kids.
They take the spotlight off me.

Time to get as close
to an overdose
as possible.
Mom and dad
hate hospitals.

-GD Butler

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