I wake up early sometimes
I sit in my small apartment shower
It’s almost meditation
I let the water hit me
Inside, with a glass door to my left and tile Installed in the 60’s to my right
I think about anything other than myself
Isolated from noise
Insulated from cold
I close my eyes for 15 minutes
Internalizing and trying to predict my day
It’s all about me
I realize.

We buried you in the same grave as dad.
He died a week before, you were there
I kissed you on the forehead and said
“Please stay clean”
How much flesh does God want
Too much I think
I’ll pray when I feel like praying
I’ll stay when I feel like staying
He better have an excuse for you
I’m not saying grace.
I’ll be thankful next year.

I’m not sure there is a heaven, but I’m sure there is hell.
You don’t have to die to be there.
You can live there, you just finish another bottle.
You want to stop. You beg to stop.
You lock your apartment door until you sweat and shake.
Hell always takes you back.
Makes your chest hurt.
Makes you wish you would just die. But you can’t.
You’re too young and have a life to ruin.
So Hell waits.

I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.

We were so young
In the kitchen looking at Grandma’s glassware
Pristine like us
Next year we were bold I opened the lid and saw flour
But you saw ******.

What a ******* name.
You were missing an (e), I wanted to give it to you, be superhero(e)s
But you’re too high for me now. I don’t have a cape, I can’t talk to you anymore.

Have you read this book?
Can you stay with us?
Can the baby stay? I’ll make him a cape
And we’ll just talk about it

There ain’t nothing too bad
Too sad about it
I couldn’t figure you clearing my head
And I used to think I sounded slow
But now I think I sound shallow
Ya hear?
You here?
I keep hitting the brakes but the car isn’t slowing and the light is red, and I keep hitting the ******* brakes and I keep. hitting. the. *******. brakes. and I think “****! ****, sell it when I’m dead.”
And the police come
And you’ve been drinking
And the bag never looked better on me

Randy plays the smiths
On saturdays
While I slouch against the bar
I swim in bourbon so I could
drown in you
When I die
Sell this all for a quick buck