It's been months since I've seen my friend
He's good
Unemployed
He talks a lot in the car because he is unemployed
And he doesn't want me to judge him for it
So he feels he has to explain

It's OK
I'm still borrowing too

At his place we sit
And I drink water because he doesn't have anything stronger
Unless
You count
Almond Milk
I sit with my legs extended on one section of the couch
He sits with his legs extended on another section of the couch
He takes out his sketch pad and starts drawing me
I talk

I talk about my life and try and make it sound
Good
Or like everything is progressing naturally
I try and fit everything into the right place
Where it should be
Or I think it should
Or where it was supposed to be when we were in school together
It's all old silverware
In new cabinets

He finishes the sketch
It doesn't look anything like me
My lips are four sizes too big
I look crumpled somehow

But I tell him it's good anyway
Because he is my friend
And it would be a good drawing if it was of someone else
but it's not a good one of me

Red wine burns in a column in my chest
Rosemary is learning to love her baby
Because it's the end of the movie
I didn't finish my book today
And it's not even my book
Everyone has work
So they're in bed

I pour the rest of the wine into my glass
And I go outside and sit at
The little table
And smoke one of my roommate's
Cigarettes
He doesn't mind because sometimes
He smokes mine
So the water ebbs and flows

I want to be buried without a casket
So the ants can have direct access to my body
Without the pretension
That I am not for them

The hot column of wine will keep me awake in bed
Giving me some time to try and finish my book
I will also be somewhat afraid of satanists
With old naked bodies and bright eyes
But if I am too afraid I will laugh
And remember there is no hell
And if even if there is one
I would be ashamed
To be a good person

Only because It exists

The music was good
I asked the DJ if he had my song
No
But the music was good
There was a shapely bartender with a shaved head
And a long flannel shirt that made it sometimes look as if she
Wasn't wearing any pants
And she wasn't
She was wearing shorts
I asked the DJ if maybe he had a certain other song
No
But the music was still good
There was a smaller room where you could smoke indoors
And a foreign guy with a shaved head
Foreign guy with a shaved head: Hey let me know if I'm in your space or something.
Me: Huh?
Foreign guy with a shaved head: You bumped into me so if I'm in your space or something...
                                                                                                                                                         let me know
It is not my space
I don't own the bar
It is the bar's space
Or perhaps it is the government's space
Or god's space
Or like an alien supercomputer's space
But it is not mine
Or his
I think about picking a fight with this guy
Or letting him kick my *** more likely
So we could share the space
More effectively

I ask the DJ if maybe possibly he had a certain song by chance
No
But the music was still pretty good
There was a girl with a pretty dress and a head full of ****
I patted her head to watch her hair go up and down
She noticed and we got to talking
About musical theatre
A song came on and she said she would meet me on the dance floor
The song came and went and she did neither
I asked the DJ if he had a song I knew he'd have
Yes
The music wasn't so good because it was a boring song
That I had heard many many times before
I danced with a friend
And a sweaty man danced between us
Reeling and mugging for his audience of friends
He picked up my friend and put him down again
To the crowd's delight
I stole his hat
Right off his head
And my friend and I left the bar
We got in the car laughing
And drove away
And the music was good

I'm an octopus at the bottom of the sea
And somebody cut off all my arms
I used to have eight big fleshy arms with an indeterminate multitude of suckers
And I would coil them around rocks and fish and *****
And bring them in close to me
But some ******* diver cut off all my arms
And now I'm just the floating head of an octopus
Bouncing across the bottom of the sea

Arms grow back very slowly
And it's strange because it took a lifetime to grow the originals
And it's scary because you get so used to just bouncing around after a while
That you're not sure you really want new arms
And your'e not sure if you can trust them
And when you finally stop bouncing around
All your arms will be good for is to be a nice pillow
For you to rest on top of in a hole in the sand

I am watching that new documentary about J.D. Salinger
I keep pausing because I find it somewhat unbearable
I go outside to have a cigarette
Or write a poem
I can't imagine Salinger would have cared much for the movie himself
The light from my window is infuriating
I wish I had blinds
I should go buy some blinds so that I can sleep through the mornings
I am never prepared for mornings
Before I started watching the Salinger movie
I watched this movie where the ending is so implicit in the beginning
That the movie is not much of a story at all
I am stuck in a driveway or at the foot of a staircase
Or I am wandering in circles around the base of a great mountain
Noting the foothills and exploring quiet empty glens
My apartment is empty save for me and the cat
That mews without settling on any specific want
But mews just for want of pretty much anything
The palm trees outside my window
Give an accurate reading of the weather
Lathered in sun and tickled by breeze
Not much of anything

There are these
Two little
Bumps
On the roof of my mouth
I'm thinking of nicknames for them
Until I ask a doctor
For some better ones
If I have to get the roof of my mouth
Removed
I would spend all day
Trying to stick my tongue through my nostrils
And memories from my brain
Would rain down onto my pallet

Thought for food

Maybe the bumps
Will disappear
Before next monday
When I told myself I'd see a doctor
Like the internet said I should
And my mouth will stay sheltered
And I'll keep smoking
And I'll keep worrying
About all the other things

I wonder if my roommate's cat
Understands mirrors
I've heard only dolphins understand mirrors
(like people do)
I wonder if my roommate's cat
Walks by the mirror in our living room
And thinks that there is a cat living in an
unreachable corridor
Which shuffles from wall to wall when he walks by
Or maybe my roommate's cat
Sees a rather bland television in our living room
Projecting just more of the room into the room
Which brings to mind
Whether my roommate's cat understands television

Your stroke feels like a fictional narrative
Maybe it's because I just watched that movie you were in
My friend only gave it one star on Netflix
The walk from my apartment to work
Doesn't give me much time to involve myself in the whole wide world
And Mollie says you aren't really up to visitors right now
I always kind of wanted to be you and not you
Kind of like my dad
I adopted the same dreams but thought maybe
I would take better care of them
While I was watching your movie my friend kept texting me about how ******* everything is
He only talks that way when he's drunk but I guess that's the way I like him best
While I was at work today I talked to my manager about how when I have kids
Cause I really want them
More than I want most things
That I would feel weird about telling them about Santa and then having to eventually
Confess that Santa was all a big lie that I told them to involve them in the spirit of Christmas
I told my manger that I probably wouldn't tell my kids about Santa and if they asked
I would admit that Santa was a complete fabrication that most parents agree it's ok to lie about
And then I would probably have to deal with a lot of other parents getting ******* at me
For not participating in their unspoken agreement to lie to their kids about Santa
And I would have to defend myself
Because I want my kids to trust me

Someone died on Facebook today
Their Mom updated their status with this whole
Long thing about love and light and hope and stuff
I knew the guy a few times but not a majority of times
If you know what I mean
But now when I check my newsfeed he isn't there
Or his mom's thing he posted isn't there
He's been pushed towards the bottom by a bunch of buzzfeed articles
There's this great Woody Allen bit about death coming for
The wrong person
It's probably not an original Woody Allen idea
But I've always thought Woody Allen was a genius
And I guess I'm willing to admit that genius is a pretty subjective term
But I guess What I'm Trying To Say is that
For a guy who thinks about death so much and about how
It seems to pick on whoever happens by
Woody Allen has made it pretty far
And I'm gonna remember him as a genius anyway
And I know some other people
Are gonna too
But this guy on Facebook is just gonna get pushed to the bottom
Of a bunch of different news feeds
And I know he knew he was dying
And had to think about it all the time
And pushed it to the bottom of his own self
So that he could get through his last days
With a smile and a good morning and really firm handshake (from what I remember)
And no one not even me is gonna call him a genius
And if I wasn't writing this now I probably wouldn't
Ever think about him and his aggressively charming face after a few months time

I wann kick your face in
So that where it was
There is this concave
Of flesh
And you sit in the corner
And have no means to
Process the world around you
Because you got no mouth (it's just a fleshy dent)
And you got no eyes (A couple more dents)
You got no nose (A serious ******* dent)
And I managed to kick you ears off as well
I guess you can still ***** around the living room
But you'll sit there forever (in the corner) while we chuck things at you
And eventually your indented fleshy place where
Your face used to be will haunt me in my sleep
And I'll just about scream wishing you could scream
Back at me

I don't believe in ghosts
But recently I've been looking at dead people's profiles on Facebook
And that's about as close as you get
To the dead wandering around
Trying to interact with the living
I watched the end of Thelma and Louise again
And I always get confused depressed and scared
As to why they decide to die even when Harvey Keitel
Is running after them waving his hand in the air
Don't they realize that once they're burning
At the bottom of the Grand Canyon
There's not gonna even be a ghost left
Because Facebook hadn't even been invented yet

I tried making these
Carmel Apple Martinis
They ended up being these sort of milkshake type sickly drunk making frankendrinks
Which I suppose is appropriate for Halloween
My roommate and I walk around the neighborhood drinking
And checking out the kids in their costumes
We make self-aware ******* jokes
But we really just miss being kids

Our friend picks us up in her car
She is wearing a shirt with stars on it
She says she is dressed as space
My shirt is blue so I say I am a wave

We get to a mutual friend's apartment that he has decorated
Him and his not girlfriend anymore (are they *******?) are sitting
On the couch drinking *** and coke
And eating cookies
They offer us ****
I don't want any
My roommate eats an edible
I can't stop making jokes
I'm having a hard time
Entering into real conversation
His not girlfriend anymore (are they *******?) is dressed up like a unicorn
She is dressed up like a unicorn but looks like an eighties gym mom who farts streamers and found
A funny hat to show her unenthusiastic teenage son
I tell his not girlfriend anymore (are they *******?) this but
Although she laughs
I don't think she thinks
It
Or me
Is funny
She is probably a little hurt
In a childlike confused way
As if I reached into the secret womb
Where she hides her fetal self
And gave her the finger

We end up at this bar where my face drifts perilously close to this drunk girl i'd met before's face
This drunk girl I'd met before keeps showing everyone her right breast and giggling
But then she frowns and says her friends abandoned her and looks like she might cry
Then her face lights up and she says there's this special place she wants to take us
But I don't want to go and she frowns again and wonders how she is going to get home
I tell her that this is the second time I've met her and also the second time I've seen her ****
This drunk girl I'd met before doesn't seem to hear me and moves on to my friend's face

My roommate wants to leave because the edible he ate is making him pale
And afraid to talk to people
So we take a lift home and I'm vaguely annoyed with the evening
And I feel kind of sad like I'm missing something that I never really had
Or like there was a moment in my life once where I could've really been happy
And I was distracted or something and totally missed that opportunity
And I was never ever gonna get that chance again because everything had changed course now
And this feeling is nagging at me and my roommate isn't talking
He's just looking sad and scared out the window hoping he stops being high soon
Because he's got work in the morning
And I wanted to watch The Silence Of The Lambs when I got home but I'm starting to feel tired
And now I'm annoyed with myself for feeling ****** because I'd just been talking
The day before about how happy I'd become

It's not even three yet
In this neighborhood there is no curfew
And who do I stumble upon
BUT GEORGE

George parks his shopping cart in front of his nest
He does not want dollars for breakfast
Because he cannot eat them

George wants me to **** him in the *** but I say no because
I do not have that kind of kindness to offer
George is from Italy but it is too long a story to tell me
The story of corruption in LA is easier
Perhaps for him to tell but I can't get much of a word in
Because the story does not exist from my telling

George asks me to come back if I want to get laid by him
Later in the week
I tell him that I probably have plans but those plans
Do not exclude
Me sitting cross-legged near him while I listen to stories
Without ******* his ***
Because George is not crazy or drunk or bothersome
He just lives on my block
And but for the GRACE OF GOD George's ***
Would be the loneliest me

I fantasize about killing you in self-defense
Like some night you're gonna come home with a loaded gun
And try and take me out
But I'm gonna be prepared and leap from my armchair
Into the kitchen where I'll grab a knife
And cut you down
Before you can fire another round
Your cat threw up on the floor again
And I carefully picked up the
Sad little pile of half digested pellets
With a paper towel and lightly
Tossed them in the trash
I remember once a couple years ago
I was crying in your bed but
I'm not even sure looking back
That even then
You were my friend

When you're drunk in the back of a minivan
Around two in the afternoon
The world outside becomes an aquarium
Sharks with buzz-cuts and button-downs swim by on sidewalks
Schools of tiny laughing fish with bangs and handbags follow
I wonder what it would be like to get run over by the tram at the outdoor shopping center
With that horrible bell ringing the whole time
Your bones slowly and carefully snapping and grinding
To make way for the shopping fish going from one store to another
My friends try and get me to buy some new shoes
I want new shoes but I don't want any of these
I put an open shoulder bag on a mannequin's head like it's a hat
I stand next to a line of mannequins and pose pretending I'm one of them
I get bored and chat with the mannequin next to me
Me: Tough crowd
Mannequin: It's all fun and games for you but this is my job so I would appreciate it if you would stop dicking around and get back to shopping
Me: But I don't want any of these shoes
Mannequin: Go look at them again and imagine they're puppies
I go back and look at the shoes imagining they're puppies
I don't want them to get put to sleep but I also don't want tacky cowboy stitching
I pull a mannequin's pants down
I watch the mannequin's face fill with shame
But there is nothing it can do
Because its arms are not real

Pigeons
Can be just as foreboding as crows
Perched above a streetlight
As it abruptly goes yellow
Eight or so of them
Their bellies hanging into traffic
I met an old lady on the street
Trash spread around her like a wedding dress
I couldn't hear a word she said above the traffic
I couldn't tell if she wanted anything from me
Or if she was content to talk while I leaned against my car
Her whole life bubbling out of her  mouth
She watched her words float away
With big sorry eyes
And she cursed at me as I got into my car
And drove home for breakfast

People are still driving
To work
In their cars

I got a bagel
With locks
The place was busy

The bagel place

Facebook seems pretty upset
But so far the morning
Looks like morning

Bright
And sad with sleep

But I guess the government stopped

I thought I wouldn't feel as gross
With my greasy hair tied back
Fermenting in my gym shorts
Sniveling in line
At the bagel place
What with the government not working
But I did
And I felt bad for being smelly
Around all those people

I wish the stupid cat in my apartment
Would shut up
I wonder if he's hungry
Or just nervous

Everyone in this bar is swimming in blood

Because of the lighting...

Like we are all sharks in the midst of a feeding frenzy
And because we've eaten all of the baby whale or whatever
The water around is blood red and we're about to start
Taking bites out of one another
Women swim in and out of focus but I know I haven't shaved for a couple days
And I could hardly seem **** or manly or supportive or wealthy or kind
With my greasy hair pushed back under my baseball cap
And my big puffy adidas coat
Like I'm a drug-dealer from The Wire
Except white

I probably look exactly like that one ****** polish kid in season two who works on the docks but then tries selling drugs and it doesn't work out very well and I can't remember how or if he ends up dead but I do remember he has a big ***** (my ***** does not look exactly like his).

Anyway we find a booth, my roommates and I
And I text my handsome Romantic friend who lives near the bar
I love him but I also think he is kind of a sucker (suckah) sometimes
But he is super earnest and funny and loving
He is one of the few people I know who beams at people when they are talking
He meets us at the bar and so do some more of our mutual friends
This girl with large glasses who i spent the night with once is there
She is currently spending her nights with my handsome Romantic friend who lives near the bar
I am really happy for them because
     They have been friends so long
          And finally seem to be in a comfortable ******
                 Relationship and it just happens to be with each other
                    But they get along so well and have so much in common
                       And I've known them both for a while and always wondered
                          why they weren't "together"
It just seems good

I am privately jealous and insecure
The shark in me looms behind my mask
And I think vicious mean territorial thoughts
But I don't really want to spend another night with this girl with the large glasses

My love is restrained
Put in a choke-hold by an older brother or big mean friend
While my handsome Romantic friend who lives near the bar's love is boundless
He is a dog you can hear running through the house to meet you at the door
I'm simply not home
Or sick

I drink double whiskey after double whiskey
My roommates and I take a lift home
But first we make our lift driver take us through
The McDonald's Drive Through
I have never ordered a quarter-pounder before
I've had the Big Mac and I've had just regular cheeseburgers
But never a quarter-pounder
And I say "it's okay because I'm being fat for the holidays."
My roommates have heard this too many times and have stopped laughing
Our lift driver is a pretty brunette who wants to start a juicery in Miami
She is practical and sincere
I tell my roommates I want a girlfriend like her when we get out of the car
They don't believe me
I don't really either

I wanna live like a piece of chewing tobacco
Stuck at the bottom of the front of your mouth

I'd like to be the television program you barely watch
Before you fall asleep on your couch at night

Maybe I could be the orange peel you can't find a trash can for
So you stick it in your shirt front pocket instead and it stays there for weeks

It would be nice if---

                                                                               ---HEY HEY HEY what do you think you're doing?
I was writing a poem---

                                                                              ---Oh yeah? What kind of poem? Is it a love poem?

Sort of---
                                                            
                                                                              ----Well who is it too then? Huh?

It's kind of non specific---

                                                                             ----What a bunch of baloney! This guy? Can you believe        
                                                                              This guy? Thinks he can just write love poems to the
                                                                           ether this guy. And they ain't even real romantic like.
                                                                          Jeesh! I'll tell you why too! Because they ain't got no one
                                                                       serious in mind. You gotta get yourself a lady friend.

Well I'm working on it---

                                                               ---Well work a little harder huh? Instead of sitting in bed all
                                                                morning go to some farmer's markets or a library and talk to
                                                              some classy chicks. Christ go to a... a.. juicery... or somethin.
                                                           Whatever you fancy LA types do. Christ almighty I ain't got time
                                                         for this. I'm outta here.




I think maybe I'd just like to be a piece of gum at the bottom of your shoe
Now I'll just have to find a street corner to stick myself to

I wore my santa hat to work today
That I bought off a mannequin's head
On my walk home the day before
The girls who sold it to me didn't seem
To know how much it cost
They didn't seem to care very much
So I just
Named a price like I assume the first
Man named the birds

Man: (pointing) birds.
Me: (pointing) ten dollars.

It was probably too much money for a hat
That some kid stitched in some oppressive warehouse
And where he is it's probably not even cold outside
Because it might be Summer
But he still has to stitch stupid santa hats
So I guess even though he'll never see any of the money
I overpaid for the sake of that miserable kid

While wearing the hat at work
My face seemed to hang from it
As if I was suspended beneath the hat
Like I was an ornament
I'm not used to working near the holidays
And I'm not used to being in LA for them either
And I'm not used to being alone

I never had a Christmas with you
It might've been too much for my heart to handle
Sometimes love scares you because you're worried
You might pop
Like an overripe balloon
Or a zit

I'm gonna go and see if George Bailey can make me feel like it's Christmas in two days

There's a guy dressed up as Freddie Kruger for Halloween
Freddie Kruger can't sing the high part during Eye Of The Tiger
I murmur something to my friend
Me: Freddie Crooner
My friend laughs more than he needs to
We aren't sure whose whiskey sour is whose anymore
My roommate doesn't want to sing in front of people
She'd rather hide in her glass and mingle with the ice
But I make her duet a Nirvana song with me
Which we scream and she starts having fun
The crowd claps with relief when we're done
Freddie Kruger offers me a fist bump
A group of sweet plump ladies takes turns singing love ballads
They all have pretty voices and work at Bubba Gump on the pier
The one that sang the Adele song is studying business
She tells me while we smoke outside during Wonder Wall
I sing nine minutes of Meatloaf
My voice cracks and growls like feedback
This guy buys me a shot afterwards
My throat is so dry that I have to drink it in tiny sips
This guy thinks me and my friends are fun
I duet Desperado with him and we knock over stools and laugh
He has clearly never heard the song Desperado before
Me and my friends invite the whole bar to sing an Aerosmith song together
I think that this may be the only way to really appreciate Aerosmith
I drive my roommate and my self back to our apartment
I'm drunk but I pretend I'm sober so she won't get scared
Then sometimes I laugh bizarrely to scare her a little bit
But always end up lying and reassuring her that I'm sober
We start talking about Lou Reed because he had died that day
I guess Lou Reed didn't like when people said RIP
Which I had written in my facebook status about him dying
I don't really care much because Lou Reed wasn't really a friend of mine
I just liked his music
And he never mentions in any of his songs anything
About people saying RIP
When we got to the bar the first thing I did
Was to look for a Lou Reed song to sing
But there weren't any
So I sang other songs instead

It's Martha's birthday today
Martha and I were in a summer camp together back when I had just started smoking
Martha always smelled terrible and the rest of the kids and I had to complain
In order to get Martha to start wearing deodorant so that we could stand her

We all got together on the last night of the camp
And Martha cried and told us all she felt so close to us
And that she wished that she could've gotten to know us better
And feels sad that the summer was over and that she didn't make more of an effort
And then she jumped on everyone and gave us all a big hug but she still smelled pretty bad

I haven't seen Martha in about seven or eight years
And I'm still smoking

While in the pool
Your foot rested on top of mine
And suddenly you were all the things
I had loved you for
Again
And here we were in this house
Where we had spent the best part of our time together
Breathing wetly inside our cocoon together
Here we were
You're being funny again
And you're looking at me again
                              I know you so well
                                       But I never got tired of you
                                              Even when I hated you
You're looking at me
And I know exactly what you mean
I miss loving you too
We get back inside the house
And you go upstairs and wake up
Your boyfriend
And you loudly ****
And I feel like a worm inside someone's shoe
Again
I'm more bothered that I'm bothered
That there's nothing new to bother me
That maybe I'll never stop being bothered by you
But it's nice and terrible to see you
And I'm glad everything between us is fine on the surface
But underneath it
Your foot's still touching mine

The bags under my eyes
Feel like they're being packed
For a very long trip
I told myself I wouldn't drink for a full week
Every morning of this week
Heartburn wakes me on schedule
Around four in the morning
To remind me to have a glass of water
It's not that I don't care
It's just that I don't know what to care about
Or it just doesn't seem obvious to me
Or it just doesn't seem like very much fun

I came home to find that the
Oven had been left on
And only the burnt crust of the brownies
Had been left uneaten and
Poor Jose had gone to bed drunk
Before nine

I opened Jose's bottle of red wine
Because it was owed to me
And I saved all our lives by turning off
The oven and I sat at my computer watching videos
And thought of how Charles Bukowski's voice
Reminded me of the Disney version of the Jungle Book
Low and soothing and liquid
That you couldn't ever grab hold of
But lived in your memory
And the wine made memory sweet

Poor Jose drinks and his memory
Hits him like a stingray
Sliding just beneath the wet sand
His life is twisting and turning upwards
Towards some horrible nesting spot
And It's just like how sometimes
The cat's mewing seems deafening and
The more pleasant someone is the more you
Wanna pull out their eyelashes
And the cream colored paint on the walls
Is moments away from driving you mad
And with all that **** dully hurricaning around
Who's got time to turn off the oven?

If there were to be an awkward work party
In the future
Where you get a little tipsy and for some reason
Decide it would be safe
To kiss me

I'll be all like:
Hold on I thought you liked girls and you shouldn't mess around with me because I'm just gonna become one of those goopy people who gets attached too quickly even though you think I'm all casual and longhairy and whatever but I'm totally gonna cry like an orphan when you stop liking me

I'll be all like that but it'll also make my life in that moment
My whole giant life to come and all the immense seeming life I've had
Will be boiled down into a tiny little microscopic moment
And to myself
I'll be all like:
It'd be okay to die inside this moment because my whole life's in it anyway

But even if you think it's fun to flirt with me at work
You're probably not going to kiss me
Because you like girls
And I don't want to be another one of those guys who just doesn't get that

I'd like to wrap it all up in a poem
Like a homecoming dress
that fits just right
But it always seems like
The arms are way to saggy
ANd the Bodice is way to0 tight
I just won't get ANY in this
It'll probably take me a billion trillion years
To tailor a poem
To fit my whole life

Your sprinkler went off
And it's raining outside
I think I can hear
Some of the grass
Vomiting

I manage to get
Maybe a few hours
Before I'm thirsty
And I wake up
I wake up wide
Wide awake
Wide like a crater on the face of the moon
The moon must be quite the place
At dawn

When I was asleep
I slept restlessly
And dreamt that I wouldn't get enough
I wouldn't get enough sleep to function
I woke up in my dream and drove my car
Into a tree and the hood crumpled into a paper bag
That had carried my lunch
But I'd eaten it all
And I sat down next to my ruined car
And wept
And cursed myself for not getting more sleep

Then I woke up for real
I wrote this poem
While I watched the palm tree outside my window
Turn into a postcard

Dragging my *** to the liquor store
After midnight on a brand new Tuesday
I sort of wish

That I could sit cross-legged in a desert somewhere
With the sun ripping into me
And sweat out all the cheeseburgers I ever ate
All that yellowy cheddar would ooze out of my pores
All the slippery chunks of meat would fall off my forehead
                                   And sizzle in the sun
Maybe all the tar from all the cigarettes would slip out too
      All the whiskey would steam off into the great big blue sky
         All the slaves my great great great whatevers owned would come whooping freely out of me
              All the meanness and rudeness and all those little selfish thoughts would drip on out
                                             The *** would crawl right out of my *****
                    And any little pieces of broken hearts would fly back to their owners
And I'd wither into a shrunken pillar of pure good
That'd be nice                                                    
A relief                              


But if there was a shred of me left on my bones
I'd probably just drag my *** to another liquor store
To celebrate

My Wedding Dress got stuck on a herd of cattle
And this morning I was woken up by an earthquake
Which I dreamed was the cat
Dry ******* my face
It seems a lot to ask for a night in with a bottle of white
I can't even manage to like the movie I'm supposed to like
It wasn't that I can't look you in the eye
It was just that tonight it took a lot for me
To be looked at
Without my wedding dress on

I put pants on over my PJs
Fill up my flask
With *****
And put a hat on over my three day ***** hair
Because I don't want to be home when anyone else gets back to the apartment
I started texting people I haven't spoken to in years
Because I miss them and because I miss me
Back when I knew them better
I'm starting to show
And I know that the worst thing about showing is when people start to notice
And their eyes change
And they are suddenly so careful around you that you could cry
So I have to get out before they get back
I write only to keep myself from myself
As If I could transfer me to a page
I only clean half the apartment
I leave things unfinished
Because I'm scared to
Put everything away
As if I were putting
My spoons in a grave

Something about you
Singing loudly along to Les Mis
Makes me want to throw something heavy at your head

But I remember when I would've thought it was funny

"It was cute when I didn't know you."

I don't remember what movie that's from
I asked my roommate but he didn't know what I was talking about
Or he couldn't hear me over all the Les Mis in the living room
It doesn't really matter what movie it's from
It's just what I was thinking to describe
Everything you do