****... the sunglasses...

double ****!

        dinner... making my father lunch...

triple hush hush ****** third....

  i might be a drunk...
   (burp)          
              but i have my obligations;

the day doesn't begin
with or without a dosage
of sleep...

         i tango with a sputnik...

what?!
you know just your random ****...
sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet home
Idaho!

              Ghana?
****... i misspelled Missishippi....
             no,
not exactly Family Guy funny,
but you know,
you spend a night with two Germans
tripping on mushrooms,
watching American dad...
with an Egyptian drinking *****,
all quest-west in Amsterdam...
and you're not seeking the company
of a Puerto Rican hubbly-n-bubbly...
touch of flesh...

   the night must be pretty entertaining...

so that's what you call exfoliating
when given into excess...
...      .... .... (the excess pause)...
and then shhhhhhhhhhhhhh
in a makeshift metaphysical library...
literary... yes... (burp)... literate...
the sunglasses are working
just fine...

                   the sun isn't...

why do i always sit through the vanilla
sky of a sunset, why?!

hush darling...
          Shakie Shtevens is going
to tell you  all about what gives him
the Shakes...
   shakes? if you drink... hot sweats...
one minor posit of a subverted
hangover...

                  a slap, a punch, a slap
once more, oh look, i'm found and bound
to sober;
getting drunk,
and then returning to the leash:
well...
    covert for: a pristine afternoon.

p.s.

quasi-headbanging to a meat-head
tune...
  yeah.... Slipknot... what?!
no....   MC Hammer!
  i'm touching jack-****...
       look at me...
   touching... clapping using jazz hands.