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By Misti Date: 2003 Oct 07 Comment on this Work [[2003.10.07.03.05.14439]] |
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no special discount for me? my birthday was yesterday and I work on the seventh floor of a busy building on Wall Street I work in Manhattan I am successful I'm sorry, no but happy belated birthday and I hope your wishes came true (gag) that is not good enough then I guess you are SOL what is SOL? slang for Shit Outta Luck I, too, am SOL I am reading Breakfast of Champions and laughing I am listening to a song from the late '80s and crying was my flesh ever glowing was it ever snowing pure white in my december i don't remember the aromas that meant i was home free with the arms around me not letting me fall down from too much wine and nights too long this Hank Williams song always destroys me i have been toyed with one time too many i am not getting any relief i am envious of her life bubbling over her good looks good book good friends good husband good kids good house good mouth that chews up the universe and spits it out star by lucky star there is no bar on earth to crawl to for my brand of escape no road trip long enough not enough money for enough anonymous broken neon motel room coffin refrigerated afternoons telling three inch goobers on the screen which price is right telling three inch actresses with five inch high hair which lover to leave before the next commercial break i am aching i am bugging out i am in the past trying out for cheerleader to eyes that pity and mock my small ugly body i am sitting alone in the vast gym at Kelview Heights Baptist Church in Midland, Texas watching all the confident gorgeous sexed up sixteen year olds flirt with Matt Hale the lazy grinning Leo stud of the youth group i am cooped up inside a musty bedroom in a red brick house on Cuba Road with chickens all over the yard and shame all over my face from sucking dick to "Personal Jesus" with him giving me directions faster, faster me gagging and wagging my tail a devoted puppy dog i am a paper doll waiting for a gusty breath i am a shopping mall awaiting a bulldozer death i am wilderness dying artist scribbling Skid Row veteran begging to be set free above and beyond soaring the mess that is me. |