Goose, Newt, Cecelia, Allyn, Jack, ...

she asks for guns. maybe we should give them to her.

Read this. now. click on the title above and go there.

Bar flys, fly home.

We are broken livers and hand quivers
from too little food and too much brooding mood
Booze soothes the bruise and drops a shade on
the ever blaring glare of life's nicks and blights
the fist once tight white knuckles loosen to pink again
around a pint of beer or a glass of gin and ginger ale
makes these stale feelings linger a little longer
than it takes to order another.

My coffee is cold..

My brain is getting old. My story's been told a hundred times under my breath-My ass has been sold a hundred times under duress..Sometimes we hide the Truth like a Jew in an Easter dress...the best has yet to leave you, but this mess is always see-through..like panty hose over the face of the man who rapes you..the Jury will only blame you for your fate because you were a woman who had to work late...
my coffee is cold.
This story is getting old. Our skin is sold to companies who use it to sell the illusion of dignity back to the women they stole it from originally...and we'll always work late as long as we keep shoving our money into the fat mouths of those who devour our right to say Ouch..
My coffee is..
Fuck it.
I'll take whiskey instead and wash it down with a gun to the head..I never made this bed but I am forced to lie in it but sometimes lying is the only way to keep the dreams of the big break safe from those who would rather you never caught it... so I'll never admit what I want ...
until I've got it.

Haiku, Haiku, I do that shit too..

If I were laid down
at the bottom of the pond
fish would fill my sky