Shaky hands. Listening to bands through earphones. Attempting to suffocate my moans by holding my breath and/or putting plastic bags over my head until I realize what death is and can't take or fake it.
Alcoholic but not bitter; very sweet, actually.
Around the time that Bloody Mary three makes it into my tummy I start to feel as if everything is nothing and nothing is something worth respecting.
I respect the void, although I try- pointlessly- to avoid falling too deep into the chasm of empty feelings.
An orgasm, weak knees, and hands that continue shaking until I enter gracefully into Act Seven with Bloody Mary number eleven.
You are my version of heaven. This desert town (which "gets me down") is sort of hell right now, but somehow, someway I trust that everything will be okay.
To your room or bust 2009!
I am going to ask you to "be mine valentine?" even if it's a month or two too late. I am going to be fine. I am going to try not to masturbate until I alter my fate. I am going to alter my fate.
I am going to slap destiny in the face. I am going to kick kismet in the teeth and lean into a Texan breeze with your lovely body alongside me.
I am going to quit drinking for the moment and turn my mind into a money-making machine. I am going to steady these shaky hands at least for a second until I can flip some burgers, cock my fast-food hat to the left, take it off forever, and then get on with it.
Let's get on with it? Or, uh, let's get it on?
Dawn is knocking on the door while I’m rocking back and forth on the floor cradling my knees. That sounds scary and/or depressing but don't worry darling for I am smiling.
I am smiling.
Alcoholic but not bitter; very sweet, actually.
Around the time that Bloody Mary three makes it into my tummy I start to feel as if everything is nothing and nothing is something worth respecting.
I respect the void, although I try- pointlessly- to avoid falling too deep into the chasm of empty feelings.
An orgasm, weak knees, and hands that continue shaking until I enter gracefully into Act Seven with Bloody Mary number eleven.
You are my version of heaven. This desert town (which "gets me down") is sort of hell right now, but somehow, someway I trust that everything will be okay.
To your room or bust 2009!
I am going to ask you to "be mine valentine?" even if it's a month or two too late. I am going to be fine. I am going to try not to masturbate until I alter my fate. I am going to alter my fate.
I am going to slap destiny in the face. I am going to kick kismet in the teeth and lean into a Texan breeze with your lovely body alongside me.
I am going to quit drinking for the moment and turn my mind into a money-making machine. I am going to steady these shaky hands at least for a second until I can flip some burgers, cock my fast-food hat to the left, take it off forever, and then get on with it.
Let's get on with it? Or, uh, let's get it on?
Dawn is knocking on the door while I’m rocking back and forth on the floor cradling my knees. That sounds scary and/or depressing but don't worry darling for I am smiling.
I am smiling.
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