Drunk,
and starving
I stumble
tumbling
into a hole
in the wall
where I order the cheapest thing on the menu,
pancakes.

I lean against a nearby counter,
staring at my feet below,
measuring distance,
as I time my spit.

Slip,
from my lips.
Drip,
on the tip,
of my wing-tipped,
shoe.

After eternity,
they call my number,
I was ready to go.

The callow man places the dish on the counter
then slides it over to me and asks "The works?"

I nod stupidly.

He then proceeded, with gloved hands, to smash my flapjack and streak odd colored syrups, concluding with a confectioners' sugar storm from above.

"Enjoy."

Drunk,
and starving
I stumble
tumble
out of a hole
in the wall
where I regret ordering the cheapest thing on the menu.

"Your lips are like honey, and your kisses are like wine." She whispered as she sat on my forearm in her thin sweatpants.

She was right.

My words are sweet,
and cap hearts like a breast,
in golden amber.

Like wine,
my kisses stain,
if settled,
fermented,
way before she came.

From the bottom of the barrel
with previously crushed grapes.

Have you ever placed a shard of dry ice in a bottle of water, capped it, and tossed it out the window, like a grenade, as it frolics with gravity, and strikes the center of the only open trash can just for it to lay there spilling.

Sometimes **** doesn't go according to plans.

I've once dreamt of getting into a shuttle
and spearing towards Saturn.

From my calculations,
I'd most certainly go off-course,
and possibly snap
and pop towards the sun.

It's a win-win situation.

You know about mops?
I know a lot about mops,
way more than you'll ever know about mops.

There are flats,
sponges,
dust,
string,
strip,
steam,
spin,
and microfiber ones.

That's just for the house.

"Sorry, Bud but I have to head-on home. I'll see ya after this whole thing passes." Charles says as he leaves the room.

My pops.

My pops,
used them his whole life
to feed me.

My pops
knew everything about mops.

I wake up beneath rubble,
slowly getting up and dusting my self off.

A woman blindsides me,
attacking.

I threw her out the window,
listening to her scream
as she's removed from the scene.

An oscar?
Maybe.

For now just a scene
in a movie starring me.

Tsk,
tsk,
what a bliss.

Good whiskey
and miss.

Not even cupid's arrow
can save this.