un-hypnotized/johnny cash/george strait/waylon jennings

johnny cash

dressed all in
black

will you catch
the boquet

on my wedding day?

so far s/he’s only said
‘no way’ but i’m
hoping- against

all hope (i know)- that
that will change

i mean, straight or gay
love is love anyway
right?

o, tonight...tonight
i wish i could make
the wrongs right

tonight i pray
that yesterday
can still be
erased

and tomorrow i know, already/before
hand, that i will awake with a belly
full of sorrow and a headache
throbbing in the key of c-

like a sax blowing ‘regret, regret,
regret’ in this discordant way,
with some concept of
melancholy

my six string will say, to me, ‘stick
to/with the melody, kid- you keep
straying from the ‘bigger picture
darwinism shit’ into the blackness

of some type of tragic shakespeerean
b.s...life is too short to be so dramatic,
so emphatic, so much like some dumb
greek tragedy- it’s time to be roman-
violent, un-emotional, and pragmatic-
got it, kid?’

o, my eyes! my eyes! my eyes hurt, my
eyes are sore- from staring at a closing
door, or rather a door that is closed and
not opening-

o, my thighs! my thighs! my thighs are
burning with desire, it is like there is
a fire inside of my/‘in between my
legs’ that begs for yr tongue’

o, i wish we were- i wish we could
still be- young, that way i would
mount a white horse (with a
white dove stuck to an olive
branch in my pocket) then
ride

and ride and ride
till i was/am by
yr side-

this is my last
one-night
stand

on yr own two feet
and tell me, please
pretty please

the following:

can you, i mean- can i
be ‘un-hypnotized’?

insert a line re: writing
poetry,

then insert an additional
line on the topic of love
‘n my ex

whom lives, currently, in
texas

which

i believe, is a fact- is
something george
strait would

‘preciate- o, if only
waylon jennings
could see

me now; somehow
even though i’ve
lost all but one
of

my ‘marbles’ i’ve still
got a sick, scrawny
(yet fit- with excellent
‘definition’) chest
full’a love