already somebody's baby

listening to elliott smith and feeling grim
counting sheep
the messages all go out with no names
and they're all due last year.
trying to stay awake with worrying-
skin failure is imminent
gilson and gelles, nowhere to be found
ooghe's around: he chuckles when wesly cracks his gum
me? i'm gonna slap him in a minute
this isn't a poem
it's a cry for help
tonights the great debate
youth and beauty v. age and treachery
well maybe we were all liars once.
and maybe you'll be lonesome, too.
baby, just remember till there's home again,
you belong to we.
and before you ask-
oh, sure. i'm fine. no need for yellow smile-faces, right?
right!