They say,
old habits die hard.
Don't I know it.
I put down the bottle for a while,
picked it back up.
Older now, more refined.
Bourbon,
instead of the cheap rot gut,
of my youth.
It all kills you in the end.
Still can't go out in public.
Teeth grinding,
Who's the enemy?
Who's the snake in this crowd?
Do I have my weapon?
Constantly clutching leather bound steel,
haven't needed the blade,
in a long time,
but must always be ready.
Marlb menthols,
pack a day, at least.
Smoke one to take the edge off,
there's always an edge.
Serial monogamist,
constantly striving for love,
hopeless romantic.
Hopelessly falling for women so venomous,
they could teach vipers,
a thing or two.
Picked up
a couple new ones but,
the old habits die hard

like children in church
you make me feel the dangers of
a simple whisper,     heads turn
slow burn

feel it hot on skin, deepening as the stare sets   in

new day,
old men and

every hour
retains their listless exhaustion;
half-hearts beat in their chests.


"The sky is bright today," I say, making
small talk.

"Don't worry, " he says through a concrete smile,
"we're tinting the windows tomorrow"

Spit in my face then tell me you love me.

You found me laying in the grass.
You should have left me there.

As my feet sunk into the mud,
I could feel spring coming,
Not just the season,
But a new beginning,
For all of us.

I unscrewed my belly button and my **** fell off