We're eternally addicted
to the things that make us feel
the same,
when deep down in all of us
we're screaming our fucking hearts
out trying to be ourselves.

Her tongue flew past her gums and onto the checker-board
linoleum

I shoved a flashlight down her throat
and it was as I'd suspected,

dick virus all the way down.

"Sheriff, we're gonna need a lot of bleach."


The is the beginning of an incomplete thought.
Pick the cotton from my teeth and push my head
back down there darling.

09/20/2009

Posted on 09/20/2009
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