Night Terrors

the death of the last cowboy,
riding the plains,
with leather bound book
hanging from his neck,
where every incident worth recording,
is done with the uttermost importance.
he who falls last,
settles the dust.
the great prize fighter,
fighting himself.
the lone gunmen,
wishing someone would shoot him.
the plastic woman,
wishing someone would give her life.
the scotch in glass,
waiting for me to drink it.
the lonely cock,
smashed, bruised and bloody,
rolling around in the back seat,
with no one to play with.
the bank teller,
on welfare.
and the hopeless
watching the sky.

I Love It When,

i love it when,
women say they love me
on a deeper level,
but go home to their boyfriends each night,
slide into bed next to him,
and let his hands glide all over your body.
i love it when,
people ask me
"what's wrong?"
like if they can't see for themselves.
i love it when,
no one apologizes,
or if they do,
they haven't a clue what
the apology is for,
and it's a half assed one at that.
i love it when,
people lie to my face,
even though i knew the truth,
and never confronted,
because i wanted to see,
how they would worm their way,
out of this one.
i love it when,
people use the word
"inspire"
as a cover up,
to lift anothers idea,
and do not have the intelligence,
to make it their own.
i love it when,
people pretend that everything is fine,
even when i can hear
their heart
screaming
for me.

The Sorrow in That.

and what would happen?
if i disconnected all the cables,
that carry sentiment and empathy?
by choice,
putting the bottle away,
selling the typewriter,
and checking out
of my own mind?
letting
everything
go
nowhere?
watching Greys Anatomy, American Idol & the Jersey Shore
eating healthy,
organic,
and plastering
the friendly passive smile
to my face?
losing all value
worth
longevity
that i fought for?
buying a new car,
using women
like currency,
and never pushing farther out,
than comfort would allow?
becoming everything i loath,
allowing the venom to
postulate
in my veins.
i would become
the greatest
walking ball
of shiny
mass
that this world
had ever
shit out.
oh,
the sorrow in that.

Nothing Comforts Like Your Own Validity

&
Nothing destroys like silence.
when everything written,
all things collectively accounted,
dismissed and value relinquished,
enslaved by judgement
and
force fed by sinister eyes,
as they shovel the sloth
from hand to mouth.
as the savages reek havoc,
validity ensues,
the score of man
will be settled
3 - love.
tension mounts,
as the weak minded,
are sucked into the whirlpool of falsehood.
he will stand alone,
overlooking life,
forged by enduring the
hate
that is washed down from the gods
to separate
the deviants
drunks
and undesirables,
into neat little stacks,
of clay.
clay men fighting molten wars,
and
plastic women
indecisive in action,
with smiles molded
into their blank faces,
as their pupils dilate,
and recede into contempt
for anyone muttering words
about existence
that isn't their own.
time will run,
according
to those who make the rules,
and everyone will wallow,
through shit,
with heads slumped on chest,
and bullet wounds
will be a welcomed pain,
back to reality.
we'll be reduced back to grunts
and eventually
silence
will cover all of us
in that
long black veil.

-silence is the killer more so than a long handed blow of words.
-everyone loves the writer, they admire the writer, want to be nice to the writer. it's all fake. at the end of the day, the writer drinks from his bottle, racks his brain for ideas and sleeps alone in his bed, with no one around to extend a hand. it's like watching someone self destruct themselves from behind glass. it's voyeurism on your side.

She Took My Cock With Her

when she left,
she took my cock with her.
i am now sex deprived.
it's shameful really,
that i could let her walk out the door,
down my steps,
climb into her blue car,
and take my cock with her.
Porn doesn't help much,
and women don't really seem to want to touch me
right now.
they can smell the desperation,
reeking off of me like i stepped in a giant turd.
even the cute blond stripper,
with emeralds for eyes,
couldn't get me off.
it was sad when i handed her the $30,
and she gently padded my shoulder,
offering kind eyes and a half smile.
the whole drive home,
i thought of that girl
who walked out of my apartment,
with my cock in her purse.
i wonder what she did with it?
maybe she threw it out the window
on the drive home,
back to her boyfriends house.
or,
perhaps,
she forgot she left it in the car,
and all during these cold winter nights,
the temperature would drop,
and it would turn blue,
then in the morning,
the sun would bake it to a hot proximity,
maybe my cock would eventually disintegrate
in her backseat?
either way,
it was a modest cock,
nothing oversized,
just your average run of the mill cock,
with a little extra bonus,
of being complete.
anyway,
i could tell she took it out of malice,
and has no plans on returning it.
and well,
as a trophy,
as a rite of passage into womanhood,
perhaps it's hanging over her mantle,
with plans to sacrifice it to the gods,
tossing it in the fire.
either way,
at least she's not a total heartless bitch,
after all,
i've still got my balls.

You Can't Force Greatness, so Put the Fucking Bottle Down & Go Do Something Else

this sure is one job i hate,
having to sneak into my room,
plug the laptop in,
pour out a little Scotch Whiskey,
and have to come up with something
"great"
oh, the misery.
haha bullshit!
it's a fun way to pass time,
and you damn well know it.
prick.
some nights there's a fire burning,
ideas flow too fast,
some i lose,
some make it in,
and in the morning,
before i go slave for some cash,
i sit here and read them,
sipping on my coffee,
and i don't seem so great.
meh.
just another night,
sipping at the glass
and pounding on the keys.
maybe when you read it,
you think i'm sad,
lonely,
happy?
full of coyness for life!!
whatever,
it's honest words written at a time.
be it i was
drunk
horny
or
angry.
either way,
i know i'm going to drag myself
to this goddamn machine
and do it again,
night after night,
until someone makes me stop drinking
and being alone.
oh god,
oh
no,
then what?