think disgusting things when you're getting off
hookers-- quick "fuck" so drunk and raunchy
girls that take their clothes off
to be the girl who takes their clothes off
because he looks like someone worth doing it for
bent over car seats, backs arched
hair over their faces like a paper machette
masks, trashy halloween costumes
tramping around sneaking up the stairs
to my room, free rides, cigarettes
calling you soon
or not calling at all
locked the door had a ball
and another one down
yes another posted hatch
cross hatches and exes etched
flexing my "metaphorical casanova" muscles
seen around town in a car
with my face down
eyes on the dashboard
waiting to make out
like a bandit with my pants down
and wrists flat
inhaling a cigarette flicking off ash
led astray and its into the ashtray
breathing is great
but blue skies turn gray
lightening and thunder thighs
cottage doubles and puke;
throwing up my hands, praying god take away
the deviance in getting laid
blowjobs from fat girls--
parties with not one person I like,
only people I hate
leaving with the ugliest girl
when I know I could get one of the prettiest girls
gagging myself in the shower
to lose weight for these pretty girls
drinking until I forget every persons name
in every worthless place
I've ever seen;
Wishing I were insane,
heavily sedated
awkward drooling play date
prayer case; fucking loving
intoxication, detoxification
from holier than thou;
demonic and manic
hurtful; relations
relating direct insane sons
to their mothers, brothers
fathers sisters actors
I could've been a black man
newark's car jacking stints
stunts cut coke laced blunts
fishnets and red pumps;
red skirts and my, my head hurts
eyes without eyeliner
mascara smeared to make eyes
seemed line; less brightness,
more fire-- dull lines
that used to be fine lines
towed across, stoicly crossed
dare I mention, venturing adventures
wishless, no destinations
amtrak tickets and prescribed medication
these are a few things worth living for
looking out for; out towards the side door
Missouri looks a lot like Kansas;
Kansas leads us not into temptation--
Dallas; Austin--
straight to route 66
where I didn't get kicks
instead I took hits
and swigs
and fell asleep blitzed,
woke up scared shitless
bumping arms in harlem
out of harms way
australian accents saved face
on a few different occasions,
where the matadors minor scale
was completely, strictly turned major;
and lullabies subside in great sighs,
saying good bye wishing we could cross smiles
or lips, or tips of our tongues
or our heels touch
display love, not falling asleep
sick from the sadness
i know I'll never beat.