::06:25:08::

::: Help Keeping the Medicine Down :::

Thank you,
But I prefer twat to cunt.
Now, that is no way
To begin a conversation
Is it?
But my nausea and vertigo
Will not end
And I can’t recall my dreams
Or all the twats I have had
Even for just 10 minutes

What are you doing here?
Welcome to three minutes ago
For all I care
You can wipe your ass
With High Fidelity
Thank you.
I wanted you to be there,
But did not expect you waiting,
And fading fast
At the promise
Of out of town guests
Or proper drinking glasses
At the still-living-in-limbo-zombie
Botanica N.Y. D.J.
Who thinks he is hot sh*t
With only
Ghosts of respect
And a family at a haircut’s distance
From his tattoos
And truly an Eeyore personality
Behind all that he spins

Thank you,
But what were you doing at 7:30 last night?
While the Maggie Monster Omen
Was back in town
For a one-nighter
On the L.E.S.?

I was personally awestruck
Without a proper word to say
Except: “That’s a good girl”
The Welch’s grape juice, dove soap, knee-high socks and underwear
Will keep you GQ
But really, your kissing spot
Is the one twat
I cannot leave behind
Even for 10 minutes
Beyond the banks, cellular smoke signals,
Even the dying American sunset

So, see you at the bar
“abre a cinco”
In the back of the dark
While you are displaced
To a fortress of mightier steel
And all I can say is thank you,
For allowing me
To begin and end
The conversation in that way
Still preferring
Not to recall my dreams
Or was it twat over cunt?

Thank you,
My 10 minutes
Are up
And I need to swallow
My hard sulfur medicine.

Written by: ~ J.D. Szalla

Bookmark: