only when i say yes,
admit you fucked it up

the party bitches with their post modern hair (naturally)
its all so tired
i'm tired of my post modern hair (naturally)

rough times at the ruff club

we talked alot of shit, tired bruises from an hour or so before were speckled red where capilaries burst with no room for oxygen to smooth the colors into hues of blue and yellow.
down down stairs, i said it all
"i'm at my worst and i love you with your shirt full of spitup"
thirty something layers of grafitti on the bathroom stall, close, careful letters spun tight around my hips
how secure i am with being this offensive
how cavelier you've been about helping me wreck your lies, invade your home, pick at your lips
we talked alot of shit, bent over some dirty sink, put myself in a whiskey headlock and melted through the drain
you stood tall,a silent devil stroking a landmine

i had this dream where i was a a nazi controlling bitch in an aquarium
i woke up and think it might be backwards symbolism for just how ruined i've let things get
but reverse psychology does not work in sleep or consciousness
the dogs need food and i havent checked my voicemail yet
..i hope i remembered to take anything viscose out of the wash before i threw it into the dryer, i simply cannot have another armful of shrunken shirts


i burnt the coffee again, i am giving up the french press for a while.

wake up Basquiat!