Sunday, August 14, 2005

Poetry in Sloth

Sountrack: Polyphonic Spree / Night and Day

Smoking my thirteenth cigarette in as many minutes.

Eyes clenched tight.

Fists tighter.

Stomach tightest.

Opening them to salt spray tears, and the wind, the wind the fucking Can't Catch Me Wind...

Open that bottle, drown that sorrow. Porn for now, Eternal Sunshine tomorrow.

I find some pot under my couch. I found it with a flyer for a party I put on 6 years ago.

So motherfucker, I smoked that shit.

Then I thought, and I thought and I thought and I thought.

Now my thirtieth cigarette in as many minutes is burning my lips and burning my eyes, and the bottle is empty and so am I.

And I looked back down at my phone.

And morals don't keep me warm, nor kiss my neck nor make me laugh make me feel wanted and exciting and liked.

But at least I slept easy.

1 comment:

  1. I don't see the sloth part. This sure is sad and pretty, matty-- you need a good neck kissing.