Love is merging someone’s best interests with your own.
I can’t wait for baseball season. I won’t make it out of work for Tigers games most nights, but you can’t beat listening to Vin Scully call Dodger games. Play ball!
I’m not generous if I say I’m generous, I’m just some dick who gives stuff away.
Test Post Please Ignore
I only ever really, really
want to write poetry when I’m distressed.
Ok, that’s a lie.
But all I really want to do
is write poetry.
When I’m, you know,
distressed.
But it all sucks.
Because I’m fucking pissed,
and can’t think of anything
that rhymes with that.
I backed over my neighbors dog
inadvertently I assure you.
I was backing up my truck,
and didn’t see him in the rearview.
I could have sped away,
blaming it on a stranger.
But I’ve been caught up in lies,
and in the cold truth,
lies the least amount of danger.
I threw it in park,
opened the door,
thinking the outlook stark.
but beyond all doubt,
there was that dog,
running and jumping about.
Sleep in a hoody weather. I can dig it.
Vociferously
Cool word.
I was reading an interview today with a legal prostitute from an Australian brothel. She said that a handful of clients would foot the 250 to 300 dollar an hour fee just to cuddle and talk. Many of the clients would even give her a backrub, and ask about her well being, listening intently and giving advice where necessary. When leaving, they’d often go no further than giving her an extra long hug, a kiss on the top of her head, and wishes for good health and happiness upon her.
It was the saddest thing I’d read in a very, very long time.
I’ve missed you
I wanna be close to you
For a Special Girl.
I want to take you far away,
to somewhere else,
that’s right here
Where the worlds rotation will slow,
and time won’t touch us.
But we will keep moving forward,
without the rest.
Nothing to hold us back,
nothing to keep us grounded.
Where I can breathe you in,
and kiss you,
and smell you on my coat.
and we can talk about nothing,
or everything,
while we try to forget
how unfair life too often is.
In that it keeps moving forward,
when you wish it could just stop,
and make what felt like moments
last a lifetime.
Nothing is real.
Instructions for Distraction
Loud abrasive music: Check.
Drugs: Checkity-check check.
Self hate: receding into the depths of my mind from whence it came.
Dysphoria: well, that’s just an unfortunate side effect.
Great peril awaits those who seek out in others what they see in themselves.
That little spot
Where jaw meets
neck and neck
meets head,
I want to kiss there
I wish there was a me following me around that I could talk to. I bet he would know what the fuck I am talking about. He could even translate when I decide to make a fool of myself for other people.
