Pushing breaklights,
before jumping over the crown,
Taking drags,
in italics (makes us look like we down).
Slouching over countertops,
while hard water drops,
dreaming of minerals,
while the Blacksmith takes benedryl.

Receiving kicks,
from the ends of steel-toed boots,
act a champ,
he winks (we're in some sort of cahoots).
Tattooed blackeyes,
(don't wanna **** with these guys),
cool-kid-alert!
snorts lines in the dirt.

Back with a vengeance,
watching Batman and Robin,
breaks dishes,
because his headache is throbbing.
And I look and I see,
and it occurs to me,
and I forget the rest,
because it feels the best.

And, I left my dad's gun under my bed.

I woke up from a drugged sleep,
Went to work feeling like I had no feet
I speak my mind when my mind goes numb
There's no candy - coating when the sugar runs.
It's unfortunate when benedryl turns me to a zombie shell
But, contrary to my spoken thoughts,
I tend to write pretty well.
So I set my sails on paper trails leading into ink infested wells
Not literally though, I bought a pack of 20 pens on sale.
Caligrapher? I could never be. My mind spits too vapidly.
The metal tips snap back at me, leaving splatters on the tapestry.

I take a bath, I take a bath with a cup of tea
And stupid show on TV, stifling my own laughing
My wife is in the room connected and she's trying to sleep.
I wake her up occasionally to tell her an obsurd thought,
Most of those nights I'm up past three.
I swear she compliments my crazy mind quite perfectly.
She'll read this babble I wrote and tell me I'm silly.
And do you know why? Because I'm silly.

I wouldn't know what to do with a lot money,
I don't want fancy cars or designer meds.
But I'd love a glass of orange juice with some pulp, instead.
I'm not a picky person, but there are a couple things I hate,
Like asking for fresh - squeezed and getting concentrate.