Wednesday, April 29, 2020

Tear it all down.

Tear the flesh from the bone
This poem must begin now
No fifty – fifty, no phone a friend
Everyone wants to be a millionaire, Asshole

She was attracted to my lacerations and I was drawn to how she always took a contrary view to whatever I was laying down
I learned what southern hospitality was as she pulled apart her thick pussy lips and showed me exactly where to land my Cessna
During the quarantine I’ve started watching the Discovery channel again. It’s funny how some ports feel so familiar when everything has turned to shit and you realize you’re starting to like the taste of shit

Tired of all these knock'em out, drag'em out' methods that do no one, but the anesthesiologist any good
If someone’s getting paid it’s gonna be me after years of being called a weasel for stepping up and paying tribute to a dead comrade
I don’t have the time or the patience to deal with other people’s failed attempts at grieving. The last friend I counseled quickly turned on me when the walls started closing in

Tear it all down
Rip it to shreds
Posers and wannabes need not apply
We’ve had our fill of assholes that analyze everything and leave nothing to chance.

Charles Cicirella

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