Saturday, October 17, 2015

Knee Deep
Knee deep in shit.
Knee deep in your shit.
And trust me I have plenty of my own.

I am a rodeo clown.
I am a broken toy from the Island of Misfit Toys.
I don’t trust Caitlyn Jenner.

You know what they say about too many poets in the kitchen.
The water never boils and Chicken Soup for the Soul is just another poor excuse to self-medicate and then blame someone else for your troubles and woes.
I heard that lonesome whistle blow then I got on that train because moving is always better than standing still especially when you have nothing left to say.

Knee deep in callus reminders of you and your intolerance toward people who wear white after Labor Day.
I’m so pissed off, but I guess that’s better than being pissed on. Golden showers have never made any sense to me. I mean it’s bad enough when you soil yourself. Why would you want someone else to soil you?
Makes perfect sense that Adolf liked Eva to shit on his chest. He deserved to be treated like a toilet and deep down in his Black Forest heart he knew it.

Charles Cicirella

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