Did Adam and Eve come with an instruction manual?
Think about it the next time you’re eating ribs.
Think about it the next time you’re waist deep in your significant other’s red box.
I know how that sounds and what you’re now thinking, but please understand I’m not only a poet on television, which means I’m always looking for a way out of this labyrinth of ticky tacky little boxes.
Burning as hot as a blue tip as my incendiary thoughts gain entrance into your mind and redecorate the foyer with blood stamps and Wilhelm screams.
I’ve exhausted all avenues that could possibly result in bluebird happiness of course I could be focusing too much on world events or who the next host of Jeopardy! will be.
Did Bonnie and Clyde have an exit strategy?
Think about it the next time you’re filling yourself up with high fructose corn syrup and 30 caliber bullets.
Think about it the next time you find yourself on the hook for a crime you’re almost certain you did not commit.
“Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose” that’s what Kris wrote and Janis sang as she showed all those Port Arthur fucks just how resilient she was as an overdose became her silver lining from all the poor choices she could no longer ignore.
I saw Kristofferson once in concert. I was front row and even handed him some of my poetry. I’m still waiting for him to call like I’m still waiting for a thief in the night to calm my wet market fears.
I need to take some allergy medicine because I feel the nausea coming on and once it takes hold I’m no good to anyone including myself.
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