if you held out your hand i'd slap it
nicely, of course in the gesture of a high
five. in the morning i woke up and smoked
a cracker jack ship of dreams
squeezed into teenage jeans and addict
schemes. your sleeze isn't as hidden
up your sleeve as you would like
us to believe, so just be brief
in your freedom and free in your
bevy of unwashed hand
clasps.
your button is rubbing my thigh
bone and causing a cloud of pink
on my white fleshy man bits.
i know, right?
no, i know no right, just know wrong.
wrong is a lot easier to get right
and be sure of it.
right is decades of tests before answering and still not knowing if the final plunge will plunge us all into death. i like death, but not as much as i like life. i like life because of lifes relationship with death, what's to like about life if it isn't at risk EVERY MINUTE OF EVERY DAY OF EVERY YEAR OF EVERY DECADE? well nothing probably.
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