The Beginning and The End

It begins and ends with you,
My dear,
You’re my lover and my muse,
And I fear that it will
Always be that way.
Always.
Especially when everything
Else is so impossible to
Differentiate. Especially
When life is nothing but
Coffee stains and thirty-
Second advertisements that
Can’t be skipped soon enough.
When it’s nothing but the
Same
Same
Same mundane shit as always.
That’s why it comes back to you.
That’s why it has to,
My dear,
Because you’re my still my muse,
Even if we haven’t been lovers
Since that time when it all
Got confused.
I’m still confused.
And so for now it’s all
Ringing alarm clocks and
Making appointments and
Trying to figure out
Which two pairs of socks
Actually match when I’m
Folding laundry in the
Basement where we
Fucked that one time
After we got drunk at the
Pizza place you really like.
See?
Do you see?
In the end it always seems
To come back around, just
Like you did after I broke
Your heart the first time,
And like I did after you
Broke mine.
It started with you,
My dear,
My muse,
Before we really knew ourselves,
And now it will end with you,
My dear,
My muse,
Because we don’t know anything else.

Tight Shorts

I love the girls
In the tight shorts,
With their assess
Wrapped up in
Just enough spandex
To cover that
Soft spot between
Their legs. I love
The girls who wear
As little as
Possible, but
Still just enough
To get me guessing
What color their
Panties are,
Just enough to
Keep me thinking
About the golden
Treasure between
Those perfect cheeks.
I don’t know why
I still look.
I know what’s there.
I know that
There’s no treasure.
I know it’s just
A little hole.
But I keep
Looking anyway.
I love those
Tight shorts.

Shave

“Ok,” I say with a sigh, and then I start shaving the scratchy fuzz that has been sprouting out of my chin. It doesn’t grow very thick, but I shave what’s there and it makes me feel better. That is, until I notice that the skin where I shaved has started peeling from the cold weather. I decide to rub some lotion on it. Only, when I do that I notice how prickly my skin is, and I see that there is still some hair poking through my pores in a few places. I consider going over it again with the razor, but then I figure that it’s not really a big deal either way. It’s not like anyone will care if I shaved or not. There is a zit on my lip, though, and I think someone may see it and think that it’s a herpes blister. Oh well. It’s not like anyone really gives a fuck if I have herpes or not, either. No one wants to fuck me. I look at the zit for a while. It’s nasty. Then I see that my nosehairs are getting long too, so I get out my clippers and I clip, clip – “fuck!” – I clip the inside of my nose and it starts bleeding: a stream of red trickling down to my lips. I taste it before I can get a tissue to clean it up. It bleeds a lot. I stop trying to cut my nosehairs after that. Then I curse myself for fucking this up. Somehow, I fucked it up. Shaving was supposed to make me feel better. I thought it would make me feel cleaner, or lighter, or some bullshit like that, but now I’m standing here with a half-shaved face and a bloody nose and I feel worse. I feel stupid. I fucked this up just like I’ve fucked up most things. Like I fucked up going to school, and keeping a girlfriend, and paying my bills on time. I fucked up the whole thing and now I think I’ll just grow a beard.

Desperate

I still use the mug
That she got me for
My birthday last year.
I know that I
Probably shouldn’t,
But I do anyways.
I probably shouldn’t
Still wear the watch
That she got me either,
Or use the toothbrush
That she left here,
But I just haven’t got
Around to throwing
These things out.
Well, that, and I
Might still love her
And want her back
And secretly hope that
If I keep her things
She may one day 
Come back for them
And then want to
Have me back, too.

Hooker

When I was
A kid I spent
A lot of time
Talking to
Hookers that
I met on the
Internet.
I’d find an
Ad for an
Escort online,
And then call
The girl from my
Parents’ phone
After they went
To bed.
I’d give them
A different name,
Like Ted,
Or Bill,
Or Larry,
Then I’d ask
Them “how much,”
Or I’d have them
Tell me what
They were wearing.
They didn’t
Like that.
They just wanted
To fuck.
So when I tried
To keep talking
They would usually
Just hang up.
But I was a kid,
And I knew I
Couldn’t afford
A hooker anyway.
It was just fun
For me to talk.
Then,
Eventually,
I got a girlfriend
And I stopped calling
The hookers.
I had my own
Dirty slut.
And now, looking
Back on it –
Now that we’ve
Both grown up –
It makes a lot
Of sense that
That girl ended
Up becoming a
Stripper.

Empty

They emptied the
Community pool
At my apartment
For the winter.
I think it looks
Kinda sad.
Like a barren
Womb after an
Abortion…
Ok, too morbid,
That’s my bad…
Anyway, I think
That the pool
Should be full
Of something.
It would look
Better that way.
So every night
I sneak down there,
To that empty pool,
And I fill it
With my beer cans
And cigarette butts.
Then I say to
That hole in
The ground,
“I’m sorry for
Killing my baby.”

What Would You Do?

Sometimes I wonder
What would happen if
I just seized up and died,
Like, right at work, or
Right before your eyes.
I think for a moment
There would be surprise,
But after a while
Everyone would just
Move on with their lives,
And maybe even laugh
About it from time to time.

I think that’s what I would do.

Time

I’ve been spreading
Myself too thin,
Like a peanut butter
Sandwich that doesn’t
Even have enough
Fucking peanut butter
On it.
And I’m always tired,

Tired.

So fucking tired.

But I’ve been trying
To not sleep, so that
Maybe I can at least
Get one thing done,
Maybe,
But it’s still not enough.
Because I still haven’t had
Time to clean the cat’s
Litter box, or eat a salad,
Or had enough time to stop
Smoking so many cigarettes.
Really, I don’t even have
Enough time to fi

Lazy Sunday 

“Oh my god, I love your tits,” I sigh with a heavy breath, eyes clenched, as I “ungh! ungh! ungh!” my dick between her breasts.

She purs in her little kitten voice: “yea? You love fucking my tits, Lou?” She pushes her chest together so that her curves consume my cock. “Yes! Yes! Lou! Oh I love your huge dick between my titties!”

“Ungh! Ungh! Ungh!” I go.

“Yes! Yes!” She moans.

And I nut. “Fuuuuuuck,” I groan. Then I open my eyes and see that she’s not really there. No. Instead, I see the inside of my shitty apartment, littered with beer cans, and I see the cumstain where I jizzed in my pants. Damn, I think, that was a helluva nap.