I slapped the shit out of her for fucking with my time to write. Distressed by ambient lighting and fighting for creativity I push commitment to the periphery like the Gravitron. She hates my moustache, I hate her bedbugs. They draw blood like a kindergartner. Sepia based with a smattering of pink. Gangly legs, one eye bigger and green hair. I suppose she makes me feel this small.

I was relieved when she left, but missed her when she was gone. Know that drill? Carbide bit twisting into your lower lumbar. A two month virgin hating his empty bed and dream fucking his body pillow.

The cold she gave me turned into the flu. Busted sick and bootin into the same dirty toilet I sullied with shit a scant second prior. I know this knot. It was tied before. Doubled over sweating and seeing pictures of the past.

Straighten in the mirror shuddering with the last bucks of sickness. Don your work pants. Button your shirt. Call the office every sunday asap. Work with your cowardliness. Gargle water and toothpaste. Have you spat out disgust and stared at your scars?

Broken teeth open brew bottles reaping what you sowed ploughing fallow ground faux smiles and quick quips garnering snickers like fat kids on Halloween. Interstitial, divide your peccadillos for consumption by your friends. Those that laugh, knead, like dough, your friendship.

Do anything but remove booze and nicotine.
I need kick and snare in the monitor please.
Sober. At the meeting with half a stale sandwich,
no cheese.
I need kick and snare in the monitor please.

Third shift work. First shift drunk.
Second shift dropped gear. Tree.

In the kick and the snare, on the monitor these
blips dance prance and parlay. See?

Do nothing but install rules and strict routine.
I need kick and snare in the monitor please.
Wasted. Feelings fleeting, drunken egress,
yes please.
I need kick and snare in monitor please.

A fifth sipped flirts. A quaffed quart plots.
The liter sicks the spins. Stop.

I need kick and snare in the monitor please.

Bereft of my sleeping aids, I sonambulate. Straighten this picture, flush this toilet, total this thirty rack.

Flush with this hand, spread your grip and grasp. Stack chips like stock brokers used to. Take stock. Brokers. Battle for my job pushing that rented Beamer to the drivethru for a four piece tender, Rodeo Cheeseburger and an application.

Pack a lip. Smoke a butt and breathe deep. Exasperated with exhalation. You got rich and got broke. You've been broke and still are. Still rich and not tryin. Get broke and die happy. Counting friends on one hand, and tabulating the tip on the other. 20 percent on beer and boneless wings. Adding your phone number to the customer copy.

You drove juiced and avoid a dewey cause you picked the cops badge up off the bartopp before last call. You dump the rental into the trees fuckin with the steering wheel cause you didnt know that new cars with new radios have alternate volume controls. You killed the backseat passenger and walked away. They copped a broken neck and you broke your Ipod.

You got nothing to play for my eulogy even though you had the best song. Three chords to sum up a sub par performance. I had a bachelors, and you've mastered denial.

EMpTY billfolds flop credit cards
emPtying futures in the bar
sink cleaning classes like clocks tick
Talk floats and they know
You're broke and keeping up
appearances with stained power ties
and overindulgence.