when women start asking guys out.

turn his triumphant skills and trades honed
from years spent in the tibetan alps
under biting frost skies and hot days
where the sun just says, “yeah i know, what am gonna do? go over there?”
a short pause for show.
and some dickhead just wasted time talking
to some imaginary thing.
and old enemy of mine
from a hate i didn’t know of
bullshit hit’s me like a carved arrow
from days i joked about, “how are you.”
i know, it’s mean to pretend shit that didn’t happen
but i say the same thing all the time
for penance. I got better at tricking others to fill in for me
enemy enemy, i am jealous enemies have someone thinking
of them. friends friends, hope you’re all fucked well
alas the longest punchline hit the dick into cumming
at will or anything, “please no, i’m shy…”
at least 4 or 5 inflections incorrectly follow me,
just to punk the things i used to care to help.
when i pretend the things i used to do free when i was hanging
i snap my neck and jerk like, the heavens say, “are you fucking still at it?!”
a special kind of stupid, hardens red hot, and then walks away like
whaaaaaat? is that red? am i pissed? no, i’m just melting my bolts of understanding

no pat on the back comes to how long you imagined yourself sitting there
with this invisible air of accomplishment and grace and mercy and furry goodness
waiting to be inhaled and planted in a legally binding lock of fictional gasp of comedic lore. but that’s just a long way to say, “oh who fucking cares, hurredly.” said victims throwing themselves in front of a… wrath? i guess, to inspire, “remember who you are!!” to pop up in your mind as a decoy. i must do battle with the same shit and watch the whole of noeffingway, he still giving a shit. that shits, turning.



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