i woke up the other day
wondering what it was like
to wake up and be you
to be the most hated man in the world
let me clarify though…i didn’t wake up thinking this
after seven hundred and some days
i try to give you as little head space as possible
i think i thought this maybe after my third double vodka
i was bored and went on twitter
and read a bunch of your stupid tweets
as if i were reading the lost works of basho
and with every mendacious word it got me wondering
what is it like to be you?
isolated in the white house
nothing but cold hamburgers and fox news to keep you company
millions of people hating the very sight of you
having to lie about the numbers who don’t
having to lie about your poll numbers and dick size
always the biggest idiot in the room
can’t trust anyone, not even your little traitor-tot sons
knowing that your administration has more leaks
that some of your shitty real estate
what does that feel like donald?
to be the scourge of the world
to have your name brought up with hitler in casual conversation
or that there will be oscar-party sized celebrations
when you’re finally carted off to jail?
i know i’ll be dancing in the streets
what does it feel like to stand in front of that morning mirror?
your bloated belly and orange hue looking back at you
your wife’s hateful eyes glaring back
the way she must freeze when you try and touch her
putin breathing down your neck
selling out your country to pay a life debt
having to pay off celebrity hacks to join you in golf
making up national emergencies to save face
all those years of being the kingpin of your own delusions… gone
all that free pussy you’d never get without that name…gone
knowing that you’ll never again have a moment of peace
to play plastic dictator?
to throw a tantrum on the world stage?
was it all worth it?
donald…it doesn’t even look like you like the job.