Short Road Out

Fresh out the gate,

shes says to me,

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like Tom Cruise?"

And I said, " Why yes has anyone ever told you that you look like Cristina Ricci?"

Because you dont.

And yeah maybe I'm a little lonely and inept,

and maybe you ass does look like a ripe peach divided by that god like road to eden,

but I remain steady.

I remain patient.

Because I know that a call is going to come from my brother telling me to change is to channel seven to see some tits I don't have to operate heavy machinery to see.

Nothing I have to pay for.

So tonight, honey, I got a date with the short road to my ejaculation and that ripe peach of yours is driving the bus.

And next time we meet,

I pray it be soon,

For I will treasure the moment you shake the hand that played make believe with the walls of you vagina

and gave me everything that you could not.

A night on the town,

A night riding the short road out.

Paper Cuts

This is to all the people peeking through paper cuts trying to get a slimmer view of a tragedy in motion.

To getting rug burn on you knees from you lovers sheets you've gone spelunking in a coal mine but your canary went and died.

Shits poisonous.

To all the ones who can count how many people said they loved them on one hand. The ones who meant it.

To all the boys who lost sports games to girls and to all the girls who beat them.

This is to roots, hometowns, and your parents letting you take sips of their drinks at the restaurant.

Here's to leaving, setting sail and gambling yourself on a greyhound.

To your feet getting you where you need to go, what you need to see, where you need to be.

To women loving women and men loving men,

To not noticing the difference.

To sharing food with your dog and taste testing a dog biscuit.

Here's to growing old with your high school sweetheart or just fucking em' at the high school reunion.

To knowing that none of this matters.

So here's to forgetting what happens next and glorifying whats happening right now.

To the ones who took it too far and the ones who have yet to go all the way.

Hail marys.

The Virgin Mary,

to praying she's infertile.

Here's to the waitress who remembers your name but not the guy she fucked last night.

Here's to not praying to the god of worry, absence, or self fulfilling prophecy here's to you.

To me.

To the day your mother dies.

Your father, your brother, your dog everyday a celebrity kills them self or a politician dies.

To thirty days of night but still waking up to greet the sun, to see the morning sky,

however dark it may because death it comes in threes and no one's dying alone

so let it go.

Here's to your favorite toy.

Or being treated like one.

To admitting you like to be fooled around with.

To the one cool cop in the entire fucking city who let you and your friends go.

With a warning.

To never forget but don't tell.

To remember that these moments, they happen too fast speeding past you like the asshole in the left lane who still believes in his guardian angel.

All that cop is trying to tell you is to cherish these moments.

Keep them.

So someday you may have the opportunity to tell your kids about them.

Entertain friends at a bar.

Or write a poem