Contentment?
Who needs contentment.
Let's burn this fxckxng house down
so our skin swelts from the heat
and our egos can cry for our lost possessions.
Who am I without my Things?
Who is Sisyphus without his boulder?
A man now content with only himself?
Gxddxmn Absurdism.

We're all hypocrites
preaching word of God.
It's not what you do
Monday to Friday, 9 - 5,
that interests me,
it's how you choose to spend
your Saturday nights
alone.
And more times than not,
you'll find the preachers
spanked up in a brothel
or in the neighbours bed
when the one who placed
that ring upon their finger
thought they were walking the dog.
Wear an 18 karat gold cross,
hang all the Live. Laugh. Love pictures
around the family home
and go to church on Sunday's,
but everyone knows
they sit on that prostitutes hand print
she left on his xss.
They sit lopsided too.
That handkerchief doesn't fool anyone.
They only carry it for the paranoia
that residue crack they snorted
off her chest still lingers
around their perfectly trimmed nostrils.
We're all hypocrites
preaching word of our own religions
and changing the bedsheets
every fxckxng morning.

I glanced at you -
an expression of calmness.
You hold your alcohol well.
You hold yourself better.
Art holds me together,
but it's all a waste.
Paint left to crack,
sxx, expended energy,
words that will fade,
alcohol pxssxd away.
It's all a fxckxng waste.
A taste of escape short-lived.
Some hands were made for rings,
others to wave goodbye.
Love is art of a devilish kind.
Survival of the fittest became
a game of Russian roulette
in the players hands.
And we play forgetting that the bureaucrats
are masters of counting cards.
The barrels will fire either way.
Sobriety will not save you
and wine will deceive you.
It's best to leave them for the masters
and play your hand anyway.