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The hypocrite in me honors the hypocrite in you.
we are all hypocrites. every single day.
I woke up with
the taste of your lips. I don't know why---I haven't thought about
you in forever.
Honey and mint and cinnamon.
I remember when you used to haunt me---when to think you might care about me was like a
defibrillator.
The words on your tongue like a
soft subtle
shadow.
I can't stop dreaming about the people from my past who I feel
wronged by.
How did you make that list?
I came here today, To tell you a tale
A story of convicts, Of prisons and jails
I speak of a man, Who when in a pinch
Will turn on his friends, They call him
THE SNITCH
I remember that day, That we lie in our bunks
And I told him a story, Of how I got drunk
I drove way down town, I was feeling quite ill
I stopped POPS the hopper, And bought me a pill
I stepped on the gas, And sped out of town
I ran through a light, And I mowed a man down
In a couple of days, Sergeant McKIRK McGURDER
Dragged me to court, For a new charge of ******
The Judge slammed the gavel, With a sneer gave out time
My sentence then grew, Nine hundred times nine
It didn’t take long, To figure what happened
When that punk in my cell, Was soon granted full pardon
My anger grew stronger, But I’d nothing but time
I waited and waited, Revenge
Would be mine
Then came the day, We met in the shower
With fear in his eyes, He started to cower
He knew in his heart, The time had arrived
My shiv it sank deep, In his side nineteen times
So the moral I tell you, Is don’t be a *****
Cuz it’s always the end, For the one called
THE SNITCH
This is a tribute to one of my earliest and favorite artists
the problem with me and you
is that our tattoos
look like their tattoos
and their tattoos do
look like ours too
which keeps us all a bit confused

we were individuals when we started this
rebel rousers, outskirt kids
making a statement with how we lived
now the statement is
look at this
we now look like all the other kids

cause his tattoo and her tattoo
look like mine and your tattoo
i might just get my tattoo removed
and go back to before i knew
you don't need a tattoo
to be an individual too
Poetry is surely the finest wine
Its words most lavish *****
You get drunk with every line
By the end all sense you lose!

There’s no wine to cast more spell
Whiskey ***** gin or ***
So long in it your thoughts dwell
Soul suffers blessed delirium!

Ecstatic is the poetry’s fizz
The froth at the mouth of nib
Gushing out of passion unleashed
The kick with each falling drip!

Poetry is among the best antidotes
When I crave a drink or two
I inject its overwhelming shots
Pains melt to moistened dew!
Sniffing powdered white off my nannas vintage mirror
My inheritance,
My dignity gone
Nannas old, she's dying
Told me stories about the fairies in her head
Dancing her to sleep each night
Would dance upon my head ....
Oh where has my good friend gone?
I'm longing for my Autumn song
Since June I irked to hear the tune
Oh where has my good friend gone?

Perhaps he's lost in a shroud of smoke
Or hid behind my flask
Or altogether had a stroke
and rendered me a mask

Perhaps I let him get to close
Or took his time for granted
Perhaps he's wilted as a rose
Whose death the Sun commanded

Perhaps he's still alive and well
Perhaps I'll never know
Or walking lost like me in hell
below a laughing Crow
It's in your hair
It's outside the airplane window
It's at the bottom of the sea
It's all over your car
It's in the sky between the stars
It's in your closet at night
And yet we will always fear it
The color of the dark
That flows so beautifully through your hair
My life's diary
is not being written
just by me
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