I’ll tell you what to do:
Take it, caress it and knead it until the yeast fattens in your fingers
This parasitic tangleweed busting out of your soul
Foster and ferment it like a good wine,
Keep it in your dark cellar heart and cradle it nightly,
Dusting off the cobwebs that grew while you were
Managing other affairs
This is your grain of sand, you see,
This is the centerpiece for a pearl, if only
You allow this rabid mud to take over, molten paint
And use the blank walls of your patient eyelids as your canvas.
What better revenge? ask yourself
One day you will grab the world’s shoulders and shake it,
Laughing maniacally and waving that piece of paper in its face
You were right all along, you’ll suddenly see, in an orgiastic pigswallow
They will nod at your sparking madness,
jealous! jealous of you, for once
the world will have nothing to say, and will nod
slowly, deliberately, or maybe cry
humiliated to the bone.
You can dance on their fingertips!
You can eat what you want and never get fat
And your hair will be in a constant state of electrical hay-wire
Because they will concede that you are a genius.
So plitter and plot, remember,
No petty crumble-candy is insignificant enough, powdering in pant-pockets
Let it crawl into every vein, become the disease that dankens your blood
But spurs the fever in your heart.