In My Bedroom

Not a response to In Your Bedroom.

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When I'm in my room I imagine Kurt Cobain hanging halfway out of my closet.
How I house heroin addicts, but how I am not addicted myself.  Because it's some attempt
to be better than everyone else.

And I flipped over my bed, because Kurt wanted to make a fort and hide-- like me-- from Love.
And anybody else we could love and could not love.

We wanted to be astronauts together, but astronauts couldn't have
dye jobs or day jobs. And we traded pogs, pills and amunintion. We traded
paintings of flipper babies and poetry about moon pies. But then the asshole decided
to become a musician.

But I wanted to stay a child and become a clown and join the fucking circus.
The joke is always on the one you least expect it to be.
When I'm in my room I imagine Kurt Cobain hanging halfway out of my closet.

-sonja lynn mata