Hopefully the Complaining will Blossom into a Plan of Action, but probably not.
I take a break from the daze of smoke only to be restless enough to sit at the bar. One fix for the other, which is worse? We can tumble down that rabbit hole or we can remember the insignificance of ourselves and carry on this excuse of human experience. I still feel the bars around me and the COs looking disdainfully upon me. The only difference is my pen is this shitty town and the COs ride in unmarked cars waiting at the nearest watering hole for me to slip. The humming of an idling engine as I stumble to my car was enough to catch my half minded attention. I secretly wish this pig would follow me home, make up some bullshit to pull me and lock me away. Jail was so simple and refreshing. All i must do was wait for that magic day and fill my time productively. Came out with bravado and chalk full of spice for life. Careful laid plans for the rest of my life with pipe dreams of happiness. How well that did me; still in the sewer scrounging for scraps.
A quick gentle touch, a smile and locking gaze. A hovering presence, a dirty innuendo. I see so many green lights and not so subtle invitations. All lost and wasted on me. Even drunk and horny I can't even bare to deal with these girls. I revel in my denials and tally my rebuffs. Sitting at the bar I see my opportunity and come to edge and peer into her eyes. I candidly think of my friends and their pity parties of that very moment, stuttering and stammering, trying to work up the courage to walk over and squeak out hello. Like i'm my very own bully, I ask my self if i'm a fag and if I like being alone, laugh at myself and engage. Only of course to be thoroughly disappointed, and skip a beat when I realize I didn't even care to begin with. So I sit there with my server smile, nod, and try to stiffle the crazy bitch alarms ringing in my head. I'm here because my dick called me a homo, I'm trapped by my testosterone to interact with you. And in a ploy to act so unique you just come off insane like the rest of your gender.
Which brings me to all the relationships i've had. Just keep an even keel and smooth out the wrinkles. Never mind endless love and B movie romance. Honestly it was for the regular intercourse with the smaller risk of herpes. I still think of Kate as my barometer. 6 months. Thats my fucking measure for my life. A six month relationship, which ended in an abrupt break up for her to fuck others and date her coworker. Whom she is still with, thank you facebook for that little gem of rage. I'm trying so hard to desperately remember, through the self pity, rage, denial, and smoke screen that will always cloud my memory. Did i really love her? I really think I did, how sad that was. She told me she loved me too, like I told my last girlfriend when it was about that time. Not because I did, but because it was about that time, and i wanted to keep fucking her so that's what dribbled out of my mouth. Thank god I didnt even have the decency to even try to be sincere, otherwise i would be trying my best to entertain her this very moment. Searching for the latest tv or movie to entertain the child while i sulk in my depression. Now i can be horny and celibate. And revel in my self pity. Its always good in moments like these to remind myself of my complete insignificance to stifle my ego and carry on being inadequate, even by my own perverted standards.
A quick gentle touch, a smile and locking gaze. A hovering presence, a dirty innuendo. I see so many green lights and not so subtle invitations. All lost and wasted on me. Even drunk and horny I can't even bare to deal with these girls. I revel in my denials and tally my rebuffs. Sitting at the bar I see my opportunity and come to edge and peer into her eyes. I candidly think of my friends and their pity parties of that very moment, stuttering and stammering, trying to work up the courage to walk over and squeak out hello. Like i'm my very own bully, I ask my self if i'm a fag and if I like being alone, laugh at myself and engage. Only of course to be thoroughly disappointed, and skip a beat when I realize I didn't even care to begin with. So I sit there with my server smile, nod, and try to stiffle the crazy bitch alarms ringing in my head. I'm here because my dick called me a homo, I'm trapped by my testosterone to interact with you. And in a ploy to act so unique you just come off insane like the rest of your gender.
Which brings me to all the relationships i've had. Just keep an even keel and smooth out the wrinkles. Never mind endless love and B movie romance. Honestly it was for the regular intercourse with the smaller risk of herpes. I still think of Kate as my barometer. 6 months. Thats my fucking measure for my life. A six month relationship, which ended in an abrupt break up for her to fuck others and date her coworker. Whom she is still with, thank you facebook for that little gem of rage. I'm trying so hard to desperately remember, through the self pity, rage, denial, and smoke screen that will always cloud my memory. Did i really love her? I really think I did, how sad that was. She told me she loved me too, like I told my last girlfriend when it was about that time. Not because I did, but because it was about that time, and i wanted to keep fucking her so that's what dribbled out of my mouth. Thank god I didnt even have the decency to even try to be sincere, otherwise i would be trying my best to entertain her this very moment. Searching for the latest tv or movie to entertain the child while i sulk in my depression. Now i can be horny and celibate. And revel in my self pity. Its always good in moments like these to remind myself of my complete insignificance to stifle my ego and carry on being inadequate, even by my own perverted standards.