Fake surrounds me. Every –FUCKIN’ –where. Squeezes me, wrings me dry till the air in my lungs is pushed out into the Coors Light/ Chanel perfumed/piece of ass walking on fresh cut grass/grasssss tainted air.

Locks me in a room with lights and sounds and guys and girls and bottles and fucks and 10 bucks for a cup 20 dollars at the door and 200 for a table 500 for a whore. I need it all, or so I’m told. Luckily for me, I’ve recently discovered that I’m real as I’ll ever be.

Don’t quite know the significance of this groundbreaking discovery yet, so as you read this, please do temporarily keep your panties dry cuz I don’t want to put your haste to waste. I’m face to face to face day after day with clones and drones of Louis V and models and asses and douches, douchebags, douches with man bags, cunts with Dior, always wanting more, more or less.

Drink to undress, fuck and chuck then crash and press repeat . Never gets old in the cornucopia of Utopia. Well shit, its older than Betty White tonight and my eyes are black and blue from you.

Who are you , you ask? You are everything and nothing, more nothing than anything and everywhere I am but don’t want to be.

So I’m trapped for now .Whopp-deeee-dooooo  me now and later and feed me to the gator((s) is one enough?)

The only rational thought I hear comes from The National ringing in my ears and the queers shed their tears, the girls pump their fists and poms’, the boys lick their lips and disarm bombs, spill beers and bottles down their throats like a moat to protect themselves from themselves and Chinks smoke their cigs’ like its 1990 fuckin’ 9.

The spoken word has turned into a turd, dropped out of our mouths (neurological assholes)

“And psychologically speaking
We’re in a state of mental diarrhea
Talking shit a mile a minute”

Jersey? Sure! We’ve destroyed ourselves , overdosed ourselves on shit on shelves, bought 5 flat screens for $5000 to televise LIFE, and down here  in the 305 some go to LIV to feel ALL(LIVE)

all together now

585-305= two ate thee and you don’t want the leftovers, trust me.

Gentle Man , Give yourself a round of beers, Ladies pause before your round of applause , first you must remove your bras. After all you’re after nothing, and that’s just a part of the cause.

Scared or scarred or sacred or soured ,we are the ones that have been devoured.