Prozac Mother
Suicide Haiku sampled beats,
screaming “Motel, money, murder madness”
Tuesday drivers on a Tuesday weather night will not abide,
cause they want to “change their mood from glad to sadness”.
Slurpin’ noodles in a cigarette shaped hotel,
pulling back the trigger, giving Golden turtles away,
Inhaling their own ashes, twirling fingers out of rage,
Cause they know they’ve only got one more life to play
Oh Lord, I only think of pleasant tunes and lovely blissful dreams.
So let them enjoy one dry TV meal before they go to sleep,
before you turn your sacred hand into a sacred mental key,
before you slowly kill the secrets of those who memorize too deep.
By Esteban Uribe