Its creators–us

I barely know tonight this guy
that stupidity could only buy
stay up, tire my inhibitions
till the pants
drop the emotions
penetrate the head
of a lifeless body flailing on the bed?
don’t make it, I unmade it, I’ll lie in it,
let the fluids flow, the chemicals collide
into the creature we love as much as we hate its creators.

Should I fake my joy?

should I fake my joy for
I don’t want to hurt
others when they come around for
it’s my birthday, and I’m supposed to
laugh and dance and
love, but it’s so hard to
fake with this hanging over my
head; they won’t like it if I
sulk,

are they my friends?
for they try to cheer me up
and tell me how great I am.