paparazzi
i am
stalking celebrities online
to see how many of them beat their addictions
i want to know how bad it got
for some of them
in some cases it got real bad
i’m a guppy in comparison to some of these people
wrecking hotel rooms and cars
virtually destroying their careers
dying in many instances
i want to find the ones whose luck turned around
the ones who beat the years of abuse
then went on to greater glory
this is so fucking silly of me
no one would really care if my habit took me under
i’d be just another third-rate hack
catapulted off the planet by his own demons
before he made a dent
another aging asshole racing against the clock
who though he could give a little something to this world
until the drink got him
the paper probably wouldn’t even mention writing
in my obituary
or if i bounced back and wrote three novels in a row
in one sweaty jag of sobriety
it wouldn’t make a difference to the internet masses
i’d probably still be sitting in a jail cell
if i got fucked up and broke into someone’s house
instead of winning oscars
and making super hero films for millions of dollars
sucking dick instead of the mouths of tallboy cans
i don’t even know why
i’m stalking these celebrities online
trying to draw comparisons
between their hard luck and mine
i don’t have anything in common with these people
like fleets of lawyers
and day spa rehab facilities
i have going cold turkey and trying to punch a wall
i don’t have a chauffer
to drive me around los angeles
until my cravings subside
i can’t even get an agent to read my shit
i just have this ten year-old kid on the bus
who keeps hitting me in the ass
with his iron man doll
while i’m three days sober and ready to burst
i fantasize about throwing him out a window
and into the high speeding traffic
then stopping on the way home
for whiskey with beer chasers at froth’s saloon
watching the celebrity news on channel five
until the cops and photogs catch up with me
and i can finally see how the other half lives.
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