curb your enthusiasm

Do you think its funny honey?

Amusing bits of reality.

That dig

into the flesh like

broken

shards

of glass.


And pinch out colored paint.
Crying blood.



Passing out.



Drinking to the hopeless the dreamless and the ones that got laid.
One more shot of tequila please.

One more hit.

One more spliffing uncreating illusion. Into the back of my tongue. The taste on the back of my mouth. Like.

That.

Word.

I thought I wanted to say.

Like.

The pierced
condom
On the sink.


And the dirty
knife

In the kitchen drawer

Like the dripping beer bottle

Drip

Drip

Drip

Dropping

On the scorched fingertips of the grass

On the dead leaves of this season’s autumn

On the scratched rocks

Youre laying on

Like,
The way
The pills explode
In my insides, in my brain
Numbing my resolution

For just another suicidal tick

Tock

Ticking

Of a clock that doesn’t work
And lungs that cannot breathe
And a silence
That cannot break

Like.


The smell of vodka pouring out


Of
Vicious lips


Like .
That time I told you I wanted.

You.
And then took it back from the air and from the seconds gone by.

Like,
Another accumulation
of smoke.

Just another clicking disparate song on my playlist.

And another piano tinkling questions into my pupils.

Just before the entropic pair of eyeglasses, on a face on a body on a pair of arms push it out the window.

And drop it on just

Another pathetic fool on the

Curb
Who will learn the flip of the coin the hook on the promise.
The other side.

Of falling in love.

The condition

To inhaling.