Tuesday, 4 September 2012

Green Room

I cuddled with a Porn Star and decided I wasn't going to ask her any questions. When she started coughing I tried to call her sexy for trying and it backfired in no way other than I felt silly. She burrowed her cheek into my shoulder and she found herself comfortable. I drifted... where have i been? and what are these places that i continue to find myself in? Shut up a voice said... I kept drifting. I soon was on a unicycle I wasn't scared but I was getting the sense that I recently was and all was ok now. I was thinking about being sick and mad for feeling guilty about being so. I hushed and kept going along whatever little ride my sleep would take me... soon i found myself running from hillbillies, scared to be doing so but always assured that i'd make it out safely. I remember climbing a hill with them chasing after me and the whole time i knew there was plenty of space between us, so I didn't panic. And I climbed until I was somewhere else, somewhere else where an old girlfriend told me how she missed that thing that i used do. Her smells brought me to old homes, and as nostalgia does I thought... I thought about spending a life always worried and refusing parades. I smiled... for the moment I was choosing contention, and life seemed perfect. Not through lust or love, but through something simpler. Helplessness and an understanding that there are only a certain number of couches in a room and you only get the empty spaces. You can look around and nobody ever seems trustworthy, but sometimes they're are people who won't ask. And so we kept sleeping... until someone made us perform.


Tell me I'm wrong about everything, even somethings. I'll give you a million reasons and at least an ear full for being right. You kids are too proud, always feeling a need to be so. Always feeling a need to shit on other peoples wedding cakes. First world problems. I don't feel bad that you feel guilty. I don't care to listen to your EP. I often wish there were less people in this world, so I could sit with the with the content. I hate your ambition, and I hate whatever it is you're proud of tonight. I know you'll lose your shit tomorrow and turn your back on everything that made you somewhat anything. Re-invent yourself I could care less. I've got shitheads and porn girlfriends. And they don't make me ashamed and I only cry when I think how guilty you'll make me feel. And yes I've fucked up, a million reasons for shame, and I'm sorry.