remembering the rules of attraction

so many memories

if memory serves correct,

and so often it doesn't,

i believe it was february

of the year we shall never forget.

and if i may be so daring,

as to remember the exact circumstance

the short blonde guy

who i handed my last 3 dollars to

buy me alcohol

used the 40 as a phallus

to a gaggle of passing s***s.

besides the lose of my virginity

this is the last memory i have

before the darkness set in.

oh, what a magical time

of irreverance and cartoons

a bright world of crumbled cigarette packages

and discarded pizza boxes.

upon a couch

a w***e i had once seen

with piercings in her tits slept

i now sit

with the 40 bottle

half drunk and increasingly warming

in my lap

as if to bear witness

to a gigantic c**k

i may or may not have

depending on the source.

a sunday afternoon in september,

no my dear, they are not boys,

and until you unfuck yourself

i shall be grateful

you never let me stick it in

your most likely untrimmed

and teeth riddled c**t.

oh my, what language!

it is only too late

we learn the downfall

of a great set of tits.

the lady within the yellow wallpaper

reaches her hands out to grab me

i tell her i'm not the one she's looking for

but it's too late

my mind is already fucked.

will i be glad to lay down my pen

when the last word is written?

until such day

i cannot say with any certainty.

perhaps as i walk down an autumn road

with an old friend at my side

will i realize my life's work

is finally complete,

yet i do not envision that day

when i'll dance a fine jig

between heaven and hell.

right now i want to f**k

every big titted w***e

who i had the chance to

but turned away

by some sense of false morality.

if ever there were a more perfect time

and moment then now,

i am sorry to say i missed it.

two and a half decades

mixed together

to form one long memory

there is no start or end

it is all just happening

as i type this

kurt cobain is killing himself

the world trade center is crumbling

and i am numb to all of it.

to experience such events

and feel nothing

leaves me pondering my humanity.

if you were to never call again

or told me you still had feelings

for the bloated cabbage patch kid

i would continue on

as if nothing had changed.

at some point in time,

i can't tell when,

but some point not far removed

i conceded to the faceless mirror.

i am a grey outline

on a rainy day.

simply, i am not there.

in all honesty, i have never been there

merely an observer

to the events around me.

an unfeeling mass of goo

sitting in the middle of a grand carnival

and never moving,

never changing,

just existing.

 

 

Author's Note

i'm drunk so this will probably not make sense. i don't even care anymore...