i’ve aroused this sight
too many times before.
girl walks out
and i do not cry out for
her to survive
a few more nights with me.
i stand there waiting,
loaded, lucidly.
oh, when i kissed her
from the divinity of a garage
or entwined in a closet
at a wedding, i think it’s her moms.
lakeside and hesitant,
the place she pioneered lust.
watching Children of the Corn,
the first time i had guts.
where have they gone?
you make all gone.
i got callous,” fuck it,”
rigged like the soulless.
uninspired feelings
and no real incentive for this.
girl is the marvel,
makes me lose my marbles.
makes me daisy chain my nuts
to tender, bitchy witch hunts.
my love is pronto Squanto
like misinformed tornados.
pull apart the anima
upon erotic, filthy floor shows.
i am not the hater
nor the avenging player
but when “heartfelt” takes a dive,
it doesn’t catch me by surprise.
i see you in the quad
with a guy who looks like me
and babe, you must be blind
‘cos you can’t see
that i probably would come back.
plus, that herb is fucking whack.
i’m a big fat dope sack
with a man-root stirring heart attacks.
i’m contradicting myself.
let me take off my belt.
juanita sucks...
i say,” juanita sucks.”
juanita sucks...
i say,” juanita sucks.”
but i wouldn’t mind…
if juanita stayed.
i think that’d be fine.
i’m lying defined
by hedonistic land mines.
“hello, pleased to meet you.
most folks call me
the fucking punch line.”