bitter ****** taste,
Defeat.
On the back of one’s tongue
Waiting
Stomach acid-like
to get you
when you are most lulled into your self-centered world
to soak you to your core
in cold, cold water
but you, oh noble you
waisting so much time in youthful giddiness about the job well done
now see it wasn’t
can take it back
well, no you cant.
but you can move on
that is,
unless you drown yourself in it
defeat.

Sure it's bad
Sure it's bad
Sure it's Bad
Sure it's bad

but I won't stop
                                              till I'm ******* blood



sure it's Bad

God it is nice
lying
alone
in a big ol' bed
but
then again
it does
get a bit
tiring

Regret
It's one of those things
Get under your skin
Splinter-like
As ******* as getting them
old-broomstick style
Aggravatingly , not
Because they're there
But rather from how you got them
Poor. Life. Decisions.
7pm blackout in the scheme of things.
******* off, or on, maybe.
And the worst part
always being
That
You
Can
Do
Everything
In your own ******* right mind
To forget, or to move on
You can change your attitude
Your view on life
To reflect the "new-and-improved"
You.
But it will always be there,
Regret.

And a bitter trust
decrepit
debauchery to follow
stay tuned in
or channel change
6,985 finger-licken flavors
choose.
Call that pro choice
-pro league
And never, ever ever
whatever you ever do
never decide
if it's right for you
Becuase **** it
it is
At least that's what they
told
me

Seldom thoughts flow these days
Caught, up
in the inky tar and the
off-white pages
with their lines, black lines
separating
word from word
line from line
thought from liquid reality.
Or some reality,
For words unwritten
and thoughts unchecked.
Lacking color and opacity,
Failure to communicate
that type block iceberg.

You don't know what you got
'till it's gone.
As clichéd and overused a phrase
as anything I have ever heard.
And God, how I hate writing the clichéd.
But as true, is true, is true
you really don't know ****
until it leaves you.
Humorously enough though,
and I mean humorously in the most
ironic, sad-sacked way possible
it was I who broke it off.
In a nice way?
Hell no.
It was an over-the-phone
go **** yourself
that at the time I laughed at.
Well I still do.
But that's only when
I'm not looking at those
******* facebook photos
of her with another guy.
Sometimes I don't understand
my own sense of humor.