Even my fantasies need proof reading.
Every American is a Mexican at heart
Ready and willing to rip you apart
Armed with a knife to cut out your heart
First one you call when your car doesn’t start
Maybe there right.
Maybe the world depends on me.
But if it does,
I’d get the hell off the world.
We are a hobbled people,
Because we have a tendency to run away.
Sitting with a girl that could make a man's shoes feel tight.
She packed me a bong hit big enough to make my ears touch.
I have fallen on the sidewalk,
But I have not broken a bone,
Or a promise that I ever meant to keep when I made it
In my life.
Go to hell kitty.
Is that a mouse or a rat?
Should I call the exterminator?
Or call the cat?
Should I poison some cheese?
And lay down some traps?
Or get me a March Hair and buy a Mad Hat?
In biology, 1+1=3
An inch of steel kept me from the truth.
Having never disassembled at a molecular level,
I had no way of passing through even the chipping paint.
How can I be rehabilitated if I’ve never been habilitated?
I am not a Role Model.
I am a Cautionary Example.
Once upon a time
There was a purple car.
It was a Duster.
It was spray painted matte purple.
It had no front seat.
Someone who was pissed off at the previous owner
Set it on fire in the Living Room parking lot.
Instead or a front seat it had milk crates,
The back of the front seat survived the fire.
So it looked normal from the street.
Well as normal as a purple car can.
But you had to watch out for sharp turns.
The first gear was busted.
You had to drive in 2.
But the brakes were good and it couldn’t really go fast enough to hurt anyone,
Except when we came back down the hill from the east side.
One time Joey and Tony found these two white boys from Barrington
That wanted to buy some weed.
They had me drive us all DEEP into the Ghetto.
Couldn’t name the street if I wanted to.
All I know is we crawled there,
Past worsening and worsening scenery,
Till we landed on a street where all the windows were boarded up.
We pulled up to a small cottage style house,
With a big yard fenced in chain link.
There was a small fruit tree in the yard.
It was on fire.
The canopy was completely engulfed in flames.
There was a Grey Dread Rasta dancing around and praying to it.
So here we are, two young dread, and me in Mohawk and Leather
And two of the most Deer Eyed kids I have ever seen.
Joey and Tony went out and into the house without batting an eye at the man in the yard, and got the weed.
They came back and as I was driving away
The two of them were passing the bag back and forth.
They were saying what an awesome count it was.
They gave the bag to the kids, and the kids, now breathing normally, were happy as shit.
They gave me some buds and gas money,
And buds to Joey and toTony.
We dropped them off and got some beer and twisted up,
And Joey and Tony pulled out bags that they had used to pinch the kid’s bag,
And each of those was bigger than the kid’s.
There have been many girls named Jen that I have known in my life.
One of them was an extraordinarily cute mixed race girl, who, as it would happen,
Had a very bad week with windows once.
She came to the local squat one day and went to knock on the door
And the window pain fell out and shattered on the floor. It stayed on the floor for weeks.
The next day I gave her ride to Thayer Street and when she got out and slammed the matte purple door the window spider webbed.
We drove with it that way for weeks.
One day while driving down Thayer Street we hit a pot hole.
The window turned to shards and fell like a curtain,
Half inside half outside.
After that the purple car didn’t have passenger’s side window, and passengers were advised not to go barefoot.
The night I thought I lost the purple car was awesome.
I was at the Rocket, big surprise.
I was drunk at the Rocket while they were still fixing the ceiling.
This particular night I had driven the purple car there.
I drove it down Sheldon Street, it was a better slope.
I found a parking space where I knew I could leave it till morning,
And went off, I think with friends (might have been imaginary),
And went into the club.
Frankie saw the car, and noticed that I hadn’t changed the license plates.
I guess I was supposed to,
Although I never technically bought or owned the car.
Well, he came in pissed, and found me sitting
On the cigarette machine.
He gave me the choice of following him home
Or giving him the keys.
I gave him the keys,
And went about my real choices, because I never count on driving.
There aren’t 2 “E”s in Keys.
Just learned that.
Oh what’s one more?
To the score.
Oh what’s more?
I do adore.
I do adore.
Your loving heart.
I wish I could jump higher than my head can.
Melt down babby lay me by the riverside
My life, lately braincell genocide
I would like to live in a world without people,
But where everything still worked.
Like, I don’t know how to make electricity,
Maybe a world run by robots.
But you know me; the robots would piss me off.
I’d call them something.
They’d take it the wrong way.
It would all end in a pool of blood and motor oil.
Flippant, that’s what I want to be.
I guess I can jump higher than my head can, but I would have to do some kind of flip with my feet side up. I wouldn’t like to do that.
Daisies dance and Violets pose
Morning Glories choke the Rose
I’ve never gotten to date a woman named after a car, like Porche or Mercedes. Oh, wait, Escort is a car.
It’s the We Bitching Hour.
His brain responds to logic, it just doesn’t generate logic.
I am the fireman of gravity.
Don’t trust trees.
They have too much extra time.