Let’s make a joke
You and I
About the giddy drinky
About those funny times

You started drowning
And brought up to breath
Where were your children?
Who witnessed that horror?

Let’s chuckle
You lost a little liquid
In your veins
Well so did he
And I saw it

You may have toppled
And built yourself
But his pillars shattered
And I saw

Borrowed senses?
His were gone
Wobbling walking?
He lost his legs
And I saw

What a funny joke
Make it again
And I’ll listen
Because I saw

College is very fun
Drinky drinky drinky drink
It's snowing on Mt. Fuji

I wish I didn't make that face
When I swallow wine.
My face contorts.
Mouth goes sideways when brain goes upside down.
Everybody's smashing things up
And my brain-hole likes it.

I was born in December on the Nebraska plains, Box Butte County.
Moved out of there when I was six months old.
Life bled into a hard odyssey of trail dust and drugs and second chances.
This one time I couldn’t stop doing ******
walkin all night through the Ironbound over to court street project, Newark, NJ.
Came this close to getting swallowed up by the green monster
like Jonah and the whale.
so it came to pass that I had to join the United States Navy, to save my own life.  
Frozen cats and 12 dollar packs of newports and 7 dollar wax stamped bags
and I tried joining out of East Orange
but HQ said no - mix up with the paperwork
so I tried my luck in Atlantic City.
Jack ***.
Drunk for six months straight, almost top of my class, submarine school, Groton, CT.
My life was a lost identity; I’d be sleepin inside of a Matryoshka Doll,
i developed a taste for
Tequila and salt.
I won a coin toss and they shipped me off to Guam, top of the Marianas Trench,
just like that.
Some time after all the ***** houses and buy-me-a-drinky bars and
pokin around old japanese pill boxes and setting all my friendships on fire and
one month spent circling the waters at an unknown depth beneath the Pacific Ocean
sleeping alongside a 40 foot torpedo in the torpedo room
scrubbin CO2 from the air we breathed
and the dust off  from all the valves -
It came to pass that too much 1800 and bud lite,
boxed wine and late nights,
case of the sad sickness and a broken nervous system bought me
A nullified contract and a plane ticket to Big Sky Country,  USA
free room and board at my Aunt and Uncle’s house
in Sheridan, Wyoming, Powder River Country, shadow of the Big Horn mountains.
They’re the same age, with the same exact birthday.
We used to drive out over the horizon, shootin clay pigeons out the sky.
They gave me about as much a chance as anyone ever did.
It came to pass that after after my 2nd DUI I was invited to leave that room and board
and so I landed a roommate on the edge of town.
Second generation mexican, David Rodriguez,
born and raised in that that very same county on the Nebraska plains
wherein I came raging,
full power
Into the void.
What are the chances of that?
Alliance, NE, County seat.
I bear no living memory the town
But I saw it from an airplane once.
There was a radial pattern of railroad tracks trailing out in all directions, like giant cracks on the side
of a prairie blonde asteroid.

Tonight's the night!
I'm gonna "party like it's 1999"
Take my cup and fill it up with "brass monkey"
tequila really
Try to hang with these party animals
See what shenanigans I can create
Then when my libido is at its high
Gonna call you up
Come give me a ride
Even though you said
you no drinky, you no fun
Guess what, it don't matter
I'll make us both undone
That's my plan anyways....

but instead I see it going like this...

Party it up like I said before
Call you up
Have you take me to your door
I'll be drunk so the filter will be gone
I'll ask of you to sing me a song
Then I'll become brave
Liquid courage out of its cage
You may not remember but I sure do
Words you said to me as if on cue
Did I really hear right
Did you call yourself my boyfriend that night
Does that mean you think we're exclusive
If so why do you always act elusive
Tell it to me straight
For I have met you at hell's gate
And if you say that lying you were
Then this is nothing more than a blur
I will sleep this night by you one last time
In the morn I will leave this supposed paradigm...

Yeah I know the game the **** weasels play in there tight shirts muscles glistening looking all sweaty **** .

Well I won't fall for the same fooled again bud.
You mark my words .
You see there all playing games with there mind **** slugs all trying to mind **** you.

Sure do i like to have a drinky boo maybe misplace my pants or wear a costume and do something completely normal with randy candy sometime .

What goes behind on closed windows is a rights man to happiness you know what I'm saying .

Gotta go to liquor store remember .
Keep your whistle wet and your thoughts opened before that garage door comes down leaving you behind the door or something what was I talking bout .

Avoid the **** hawks there abound like **** strongmen .

I want to be real, as real is the ultimate goal in the game of obvious. There are purple whispers in my head. In my head. I tip-toe endlessly on the path toward forgotteness, but I am a failure in the efforts of the war against such and boredom. I dance in the savage way of my ancestors, but only in my imagination, for I know I’ll be corrected if someone actually saw. There is not enough time for the waking of the ghost of tomorrow. Beyond the reasonable laying of my lies and mocking the fiction, there is something true to wrap my hands around. I want to be real. My hair is done in a way that it makes instant jokes about gravity. It stand beyond normality like my soul, but unlike my soul, I battle to tame my hair. With every flick of the comb, I remember my marigold childhood. I remember the time when the comb was my enemy, and sleep was my crime. The pain will not wash away from the soda I poured on my head. It burned my eyes out, but luckily, I had a new pair. The internet will help. Yes, my friend named Internet. We go drinky drank around the corner, beyond the grazes of normality, like fireflies in space. We dance in the moonlight, partly because it is cliché, partly because I want to know the feeling. I make my own opinions about my life and my situations.

Whisper whisper. Is that the call of reality? I am not here today, so leave me a message on my wall of ecstasy.  It is painted the same color as my nails, cobalt blue and metallic grey like that kiss from Japan I kept hidden from everyone, except my other self. The streaks of conniption flutter by on wings made of the abyss. I can’t help but stare as they float by, for I can’t catch them. I can’t catch them, but I don’t lose hope for the future. I want to be free of the pinks in my life, for they are my night terrors in stereo. I want to rid myself of the oranges as well, but they are necessary, so I tolerate them. Have you come to make me real? I can see behind your eyes. You are intrigued. I want to wrap my fingers around your violet locks and make a rainbow for the future. I don’t like the way ginger kills all that is beautiful, it is not invited to the party hosted by the voices in my head. The world mourns around me constantly beyond the written understanding of how things should be. Yet I laugh. I laugh. I laugh because I am empty inside. Where is my symphony of light and imagination? I imitate these feelings with song. I pass these feeling like a disease through dance. Whisper whisper. Shimmy twirl. I have a secret too.