All of the pencils in the drawer are broken Friday Night I'm sick of being alone Hopping off the curb in search of the killer Sniffing out the house parties They like the bass loud and it swells ******* us inside past ten parked cars They freestyle about Gun fire and blood on concrete He said I didn't believe him Cracked out beyond repair He shows me the scythe and hammer tattoo on his left breast I laugh with the proletariat Cheers and some soul passes me the bottle Cigarette smoke contained by plaster walls I'm eight days sober Don't tread on me Says a ***** blond next to me on the couch All strung out she is searching Searching for a bent spoon and needle in the tall grass Back yard a bonfire Walking barefoot on broken Heineken bottles strewn in the shadows Popping molly and sweating She called me a hick Her dopamine receptors Rubbed flat by heavy grade sandpaper I called her nothing I was too busy watching The rats scurry against the wall To their safe warm nest In the insulation A hand around my wrist Milk white incubus With breath like puked whiskey I escaped through a hole in the couch I fell between the cracked leather cushions And slept with the rats in piles of pink Fiberglass insulation scratching at the flesh I slip outside through the cracked window A woman stands at a console Turning dials that cause the streetlights to dim And bleed storefront windows fractals of neon She asks me what else I would like to know about the world. Someone tells me to get in and the door shuts A sound like gunfire I perspire sweat with cough Syrup scent peaking on the dark road to Okeechobee I should **** myself or run barefoot again through your head Where the forest floor is warm and the trees are alive always with birdsong
April 6, 2013 4:31 A.M Love is about giving Lust is about getting