sat dec 22 12:36

what then, would be worth
counting the lines in my knuckles
after i've already type written letters
to an old address
which wont they be forwarded?
but three weeks later i've red inked my wrists
with all the piles of returned, stamped,
fucked on envelopes

it used to be that a man on a horse
would make goddamned sure
that the cunt on the other end of my ink
would read every last bitch of a word
and then ride on home to tell me how
goddamned validated i should feel

well so what i like old fashioned.
but goddamnit do i love streaming the oddball films, too.
and i like knowing what movie elses they directed
and whos worth another role
and what not and pictures of bird skulls
and oddball homemade posters to films i havent even seen yet
but that i go to sleep obsessing over

 and then there's this thought about getting into the biz
and how horrible that will be but how much pressure there is
to just be horrible with it
because its making another reality in this already fucked one we share
and isn't that the bees knees and how badly do i want to just
play pretend and hate every second of it.

 send me to school mommy,
make me mean daddy.
i oughta just sell some eggs, lay some other broad's baby
just so i can afford the plane ticket and rent to hate the next city
as much as i hated the last

and why wouldnt that be the solution to humanity
i dont get it otherwise.
what's a drunken joy if it's shallow
who do you really know
who do you think you're getting chummy with,
another asshole like me who talks a lot about art
and fucking and likes to dance 'freely'

and then goes home and frowns softly
while they fall asleep to casablanca
wishing they could be Bogart's little spoon for just one night,
just one melodic night where his voice is more than private dick or
soft hero, it's just some voice that makes you sleep through one fucking night
without waking up after having the sensation of being vacuumed into
a horrible deamon like alternative personality that hides in a cornfield.

well so fuck it, hollywood seems like the perfect fit for a
shit head like me.
what's one more nightmare, what's the horror in it if i'm awake
and i can really feel it for real this time
and not wake in a cold sweat
wondering how close to some sweet terror i had actually been.