Believing you're in love
does not excuse all the
stupid, ******-up **** you do
to punish her for not
loving you.  You're
not entitled to
romantic reciprocity, no matter
what a lifetime of
bad movies and TV may
have taught you, and
your love was ******* to
begin with, as evidenced by
its sublimation into hate
at the moment she
- as gently as possible -
rejects you.
Believing you're in love
does not justify
any of your
stupid, ******-up behaviour:
a **** move
is still a
**** move.

The sick part is, for the
longest time, you'll be the one
who'll feel wounded, and
she'll be the one who'll
feel guilty.  She'll
eventually learn better.  
You probably never will.

Eyes reluctantly open.
Almost daylight.
Panicky cockroach scuttle
inside my skull.
A gutful of wasps
and the imagined ticking
of a very real clock.
Never been a morning person,
but this is something else.
Vague chest pains in the
watery sun.  An inconsequential
aching sort of roughly
where my heart should be.
*****, used fly paper sky and
every in-drawn breath saturated
with chemicals and
not really trying.

Considering the possibility
I might drop dead any second.
Shrug.
It seems unlikely that
the morning
will prove so
interesting.

Apple pie
Tequila
And limes
Mixed with the poison that numbed my legs.