Saturday, February 22, 2014

Hey baby.

I would like to apologize to everyone for my father.
But, not really. 

I am sorry that angry, polytheist immigrant was not held back by a 6th grade education.
He was genius.  

Yes, his arsenal of resentment proved quite lucrative.
It's true. 

I've been paying for his actions ever since.
Quite true. 

Just ask my baby.
You can't. 

He's in Southern Cali.
Decomposing.

Six
Dead

Feet
Dead

Deep.
Dead

Hey baby, am I an asshole?
Sometimes. 

Let's talk about the world for a minute.
Sure.

When it ends, let us blame ourselves.
Naturally. 

Let's celebrate in our collective shit show.
Like a party? 

Let us all make dedications in each other's names.
Where are you going with this?

For real though...
Oh boy.

Is my heart made of shit and money?
Of course not.

Hey Baby,

enter my dreams tonight.
Go to bed. 

Hey baby,

I'm floating around

waiting for flowers.
Don't.

Hey baby,

I haven't been properly kissed in four years.
I beg to differ. 

Hey baby,

this is my sacred text.
I know. Let's keep it that away. 

1 comment:

  1. I think I know why I write you publicly. It humbles me. Keeps me honest.
    It's a form of public penance. Like church. This is how I commune with you. A sort of ancestor worship. I like that I can go back and change what I write. It feels like you and I are working on a solution together. I like that I can go back in time and edit the past. (January Exposures 2013)

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