Wild Turkey doesn't get wasted
here, not today;
I've had too much
too fly,
I'm just a man
with a little peice of my heart
left to use
for consumption,
so when I put my soul
into you, I sweated
a lot from that little peice;
It'd been
putting on about 100 pounds of weight
lately;
but I lost about thirty pounds
and a suitcase
since you've gone away; I feel
that thirty pounds and
that **** suitcase
found me sitting here
and pulled out a peice
and tickled me
at the airport bar,
a muzzle ******* at my ribs
as I sat watching
the planes
take off;
I am right beside the avenue of windows
and look
like a dark spot against the sun,
I think:

"I want to blow up a million planes
because
I'd hate for you to be able to fly
and put your pinky on me,
I'd hate for you to be able to point
and shout:

"THERE HE IS, RIGHT THERE,
DON'T YOU SEE EM?
HE LOOKS SO STUPID DOWN THERE,
HE MUST BE CRYING."

And I sweat more,
shaking off
pounds by the gallon
until I feel the muzzle of the gun
less and less,
and the apparition finally evaporates
in a sizzle
and
it becomes just an oil spot
I could wipe away
with a thumb
and saliva.

I sober up
enough
to fly again
and not **** myself
when I pass out.