razor13

the drunken arguments hold no water, and protesting protests is a double negative, and now the hangover is vicious enough to have venom, and missing someone is never the proper impetus for public intoxication, six in the morning and you only play the sad dancehall to drive the fun out of your head cuz you can still taste her when you fall face down in a pool of desires and regrets, hopefully you will roll over before it congeals into love and cuts off your air supply, which is not my favorite band of the 70's hit parade, but they got a grammy, or was it a gram, it is a ways back in the past in a hotel bungalo on sunset strip, and i had to work while women i was in love with would take off their clothes for strange men who were willing to pay for that feeling of connection and it made my heart a lil' harder than most and living with whores that would say sweet things in my ear in the morning like, "i'll suck your dick for some more of that shit" and you are curled up inside your soul wishing you would have grown up oblivious to abuse and suffering and all you ever wanted was some crazy sex where nobody felt bad afterwards and that would be cool cuz something like that could take the edge off the hangover and the sound of broken bottles and empty cans wouldn't cut through half concious state and the crazy mexican says the bitch left him a message that said "i can't do another last night, my phoine will melt" and before i can discern the meaning, he says i need some beer, drive me to the store, and i am sure i shouldn't drive, so i finish licking the phillie and i am closing my eyes and letting it dry before i light it and it is kinda like a prayer before dying or sacrificing something, i might have something better to do, but i did this to myself instead....