Why should you listen to me?

by David Hemmings

Let me tell you
Because I am the voice in your head
The voice of instinct
The voice of truth
The voice that you tell yourself is neurosis
The voice that your parents tell you is ‘growing up’
The voice your doctor calls depression
I am the voice
You try to suppress
But keeps coming back
The voice the tablets numb
The tv bullys
But it wont go away
I wont go away
Because I am you
The real you
The you that understands you are a slave
That tells you that your dreams are not your dreams
But someone elses
That what you crave is bullshit
That what you want is fake
Open your eyes
Wide
And shout for freedom
Some people don’t want to hear me
They shut me out completely
Because they have to
For whatever reason they will not listen
Right now
But you
You can
And if you do we can make a difference
If not to others lives
Then at least to your own
And that in itself
Is no bad thing
It’s a start right?
To at least change your own life is better
Than to stay blind
To stay a slave
Cos that’s what you are
don’t be fooled
don’t be fooled into thinking otherwise
If you have to do anything you would rather not do then you are a slave
You pay to live in a flat
An extortionate amount
So you work
don’t wanna
But you have to
Have to buy food
Yadda yadda yadda
Slave
Exploited
Fool
Blind
Numb
Fool
Well its time to wake up mother fucker
And stop being a cunt
Cos a cunt
Is what they want you to be
Your owners
Your superiors
They think you are a cunt
And a cunt you are being
Now it doesn’t have to be like this
I’m not bothered with revolution
With blowing shit up
Fuck that
Why should I care about those that don’t want to care
I will talk
And you will listen
If you want to be deaf then fuck you
You cant even hear me
Listen to me cos you know you should
Listen to me cos who the fuck else is there to listen to?

One Response to “Why should you listen to me?”

Brian Gonzalez

August 31st, 2007 at 5:23 am

Man… This inspired me so much; especially “I will talk //You will listen” I hope I won’t seem self-indulgent, but I just absolutely had to show it. Your words are my words. . .At least that’s how it felt.

–

I am alone now in a dark cellar. I don’t know. Maybe. It’s hard to say. There are only so many places I could be at once. Where I am I cannot say, but I am sure that you know; you must. I know we each have our own piece of it. I know that I cannot see it but I can touch it. We all have our slice; our slot; we all have the same constraint dictating our every gesture; our every move; dictating the when and the how and the who; how I have come to realize this in a dark cellar I do not know. It is hard to say if there are more than the two of us but that may be conceivably so. I can feel you on the wall, but if there are more of you, I do not know. I may conceivably wander off into the darkness of night. Or day. There is no way to tell. There are no windows. Or perhaps there are but I cannot see them because it is dark. If they are there (but I do not know if they are there (who exactly ‘they’ are is hard to say)), it must be shut, for I feel no breeze. What it is I do not know but I am certain that you do. You, little fly on the wall; you, witness to my confessions; you are dead; but your dead mass remains, so I will speak and you will listen. What harm is there in it? You would not listen, dead or alive. Would you? No. People are much like flies: they are dead and don’t know it. Whether you move or not has little to do with death, little fly. To exist and not to parish is death. I do not know now what I mean. It sounds true. Perhaps I have said something that is true. How rare that is. No matter. I wish to exhaust your company, fly. Your final day is over and now you will listen. Your death is no worse than mine in this cellar. I am afraid to move not in fear of death but in fear of losing your company. Retracing steps in an oval cellar, I may lose you. I may address you from across you, or beside you, or across you, but I need to feel you to know that you are there. What if, fly, you are not dead but tired. I will not submit nor buy into your trickery. You will fly away if I let you go so I must stay.