The only thing he was closed to was
             the bottle or his gun...
Caressing both gently as he lingered
on this chair..
He had thoughts of yesterday,
            The barrel still had that
         just used smell,
he sniffed the casing.

Smiling at the cold effortlessness
         for which he knew it was
going to be used once again.
As he leant back the front door opened,
             A gentleman strolled in,
turning his rooms dim lights on.
            Not even noticing me sitting
there, smiling as he walks past..
A head then pops back around.

The pistol pointing at his blank expression,
                I use the gun as a pointer showing,
him where to go.I can see in his eyes he want
to run, to do something stupid.

"Don't even think about it,
            as I wave the gun at him,
as I if I were gesturing him
                                               "No,

He sits there, calmly sweating.
              Eyes racing around his skull.
A hundred and one bad ideas of what to do...
But there is only one out come.
             Its ok, I tell him. if I were going to **** you,
I'd have put one in the back of skull outside when
you were concentrating on opening your front porch.

So we find ourselves in a predicament.

   My son found out about my past from you?
He's a version of  me, at a younger time.
But I wanted to bestow on him knowledge of
   my transgression at a moment of my choosing...

So when a parrot talks to much do you pluck its
feathers, or do you snap its neck?
       what you think!

What should I do, so many things my son now
                     thinks he knows...

Do we have an understanding here..

He nods in a hastily manner,

the next day I watch my son,
the **** of my heritage
                      go to the parrots cage,

He answers the door..

Words are spoken, Raised voices are spoken.
           Then the door slams in my sons face,
       he kicks the door,  
he has my temperament that kid.
As he drives off, I wait,
                  the parrot is flying the coop..

As he gets in to his car echoes bounce of the
surrounding as broken glass falls like broken
snow flakes. The interior now painted with
his mistake. Parrots should never talk...

I walk off, later finding my sons car.
     I smell the barrel, god that smell never
gets old.. putting it in his glove compartment.
     taking my gloves off I wonder in the house.
Asking him why there's a pistol in his car?
Running out he grabs it out, and now his prints
are on it.. lets see him betray his old man now..

Hues glistened above her face,
        prisms of droplets catching
the light as each fell..

This was ecstasy,
          A rainbow covering

                             her features...

You weren't the first
     "goodbye,

   you were tasting last nights


                                  afters..

But you filled me up,
           more than the meal

last night, I spat it out ill tasting..

                              But you taste much better..

I swallowed your offering  even though

               I'm on a diet...

But I'll swallow your meal
                 cos I never ate fully last night...

Tomorrow though I may want a different
                                          taste..

You never know, if I like you warmed
                up in the morning ,

they always

say something's taste better warmed up
                                       in the morning>

If not ill just discard you out the
backdoor saying I'll reorder you soon..

But throw away the list of maybes.
                cos the first made me gag
instead of swallowing..

aftertastes are a *****,
    but you were sweet..

But you never know till i wake up,
you tasted nice last night...

          I had alcohol

                                lets see what you taste like sober!!

Try wanking with your
   big toe and longer
               toe-ish part..

Its like a ******* with out
                          the awkwardness..

  Except your palm gets jealous,
  and starts showing the pressure
it can put on this
                                relationship..

Jealousy is a digit
not giving a grasp when needed,
              cos you choose another appendage.

I like my beans,
             maybe a bit hotter than
others..

Mine with jalapeno peppers,
           scattered like snow..
melting it on the taste buds
              oh so delicately...

Then a layer of cheese,
  like soft footprints..
    never touched.


Before my mouth consumes it,
                  What was whole now

          chunks missing..

like a where's wally of the food
                                             variety..

I'll tell you where in my belly..

Beans, beans they'll make you full,
         on what ever you want.

but for me it the saucy kind,
         cos that's where my beany


                                       boat floats.. saucy

Abstract illustration,
for likened is neither
                       words or form.

Were just memories,
                    silhouettes
of then and before, afterimages..

Thinking were real, but were diodes
of light fixed re-watched...
observed a thousand times..

We never realise that we weren't here,
                just a replayed moment...

Look behind you,
        to late..

             were not really here..


"Just a moment being rerun,
                   did you hear me when

I said that, yes that's me not you..
don't worry, just sleep. Shhhhh….

Everything will be fine in the morning...