Saturday, April 27, 2013

The Stoned Comedian

I remember
the first time
I smoked out of a
bong.

I threw up.

My friend packed
the whole
bowl.

Weed to the brim.

Good shit too.

He lit me up
and told me
to
suck.

I did.

It was relentless.

I couldn't breathe.

My eyes were ablaze.

The sound of the water
bubbling
drove me
fucking nuts.

The bowl
at last
snapped.

I coughed
and coughed
and coughed.

My lungs were smoldering.

It was awful.

I was as high
as a motherfucker.

I immediately
ran to the sink.

I drank
and drank
and drank.

Straight from the faucet.

I threw it back up.

I threw up again.

And again.

Somehow hiding it
from my friend,
or whatever he
claimed to be.

Next stop:
Taco Bell.

I threw up again.

This time,
in front of
everybody.

Their laughter shook my puke.

The whole place
stood up
and applauded my
act.

I was the stoned comedian.

Always will be
to them.

I hope
they are
still
getting a good laugh
now.

If not,
I can make myself
throw up.

It's no big deal.

It's my forte.

Sunday, April 21, 2013

I Have a Stapler, If You Need Assistance

Colored people,
she called them.

They hold a grudge.

She pointed to the
colored man
with her wrinkled
finger.

I could feel it
through her
light
blue eyes.

She was serious.

She always is,
but this time,
she meant
business.

She even went into
a rant,
of course,
after he left,
about how a
colored lady
got in front of her and her family
at a show
in Venice Beach.

30 years ago.

The colored lady
gave her a
look,
as she said it,
and danced
as if to
mock her.

30 years ago.

Talk about holding a grudge.

I really didn't
pay her
much
attention.

My only curiosity was,
I wonder what
she is
really
saying?

I had to deal 
with one of 
them
today.

A nigger?

Yes. 


fucking 
hate 
them.

Maybe she doesn't.

My overactive imagination
can get the best of me
sometimes.

But I will never know.

Never want to.

There's no more room left
in my mind
for any more
stupidity.

On that level.

So why doesn't
everybody
who thinks
like this,
do us all
a favor:

Shut your mouth.

I have a stapler,
if you need
assistance.

Friday, April 19, 2013

Thinking Positive

What do
the homeless do
when they have
cancer?

I honest
don't know.

Do they just
die?

What about
the poor,
the struggling,
those with
2 jobs
and bills
piled high
above their crumbling roofs?

They lose their hair
even without chemo.

What's next?

Their precious sanity?

How the hell
do they keep
it
anyways?

There's a lady
I work with,
have been
for the past 3 years.

We've grown close.

I'd consider her
my good friend,
someone I care for
and love
and now,
she has a rare form
of tit cancer.

She's had it for 5 years!

She's never had enough
time,
between 2 jobs and
2 kids,
to go to the doctor
to get examined.

Now it's here.

Along with her
diabetes,
heart condition,
worsening knees,
and wounded soul.

Did I mention,
she's just become a
new grandmother?

At the rate
she's going,
she won't live long.

She won't see him grow up.

I will make it
my personal responsibility
to make sure
he knows
about his grandma.

About how hilarious
she is,
about how wonderful
she is,
about how she never
took any shit
from anybody,
about how much
she will be missed
if she loses this fight.

She won't.

She loves him too much.

She's a tough fucker.

I won't have to
tell her grandson
anything.

She will do it
herself.

Mark my words.

I know it.

I hope.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

My Decal

They have decals
for everyone
when they die.

The decals
can be seen
on the back of
loved ones' or friends'
cars.

They might say something like,
"RIP Bob Cock 6/6/06-6/7/06,"
or
"In loving memory of Chave N. Twat,
you were a good whore."

Not mine.

My decal will have
a picture
of a pencil
sitting on a toilet,
taking a massive shit,
with eraser dust clouds
around it
and above
it will say,
"Ray Gay."

That's it.

Nothing fancy.

It sums up
my life.

It may be sad
to some,
it might be stupid
to others,
but to those
who know me,
know
I never really
gave a fuck
about
any of that.

Hence,
my decal.

Read it and weep
while I laugh
and shit
in my own
grave.

Ha!

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

A Pro

Have you ever been
woken up by
raindrops?

Lightly kissing your skin
and wetting
your pants
while you
wet them
as well?

Above
clouds meet your
rusted, hungover,
opening eyes?

You see your phone
perfectly set
next to you
without a sign of life
in it?

Dusting yourself off,
realizing the reality
of the entire situation?

You've slept outside
right next to your house
in a small patch
of grass and bugs?

What happened last night?

Are you dead?

It sure feels like.

It's a preference anyways.

How is it that
nobody
saw you
or thought
you were
dead?

Maybe you really are...

Now you're dreaming
you're still alive
and drunk?

There's nothing
you can do about it
now.

Just keep on
keeping on,
I guess?

Maybe
have a jerk
and take a nap
and try to
forget
to wake up?

Maybe quit drinking
for awhile?

Maybe not?

Get in your bed
and sleep it off
the way
a real pro
would do it...

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Can I Borrow $20?

They denied me.

A loan
for $20.

Not much,
but they wouldn't
give it
to me.

Reasons being:
My outstanding
delinquencies.

Loans
on top of
loans.

Money
never meant a thing
to me.

Just an
insurmountable
burden
that has caused me
much sorrow and
depression.

I just
don't seem
to get
it.

I thought
I might
go to college
get an education
and be able
to pay these fucking things
off.

With ease.

I can
barely
afford to buy
beer, even then,
just enough
to make me forget,
just enough
to make me feel
rich
in my mind,
just for a moment
or two.

Just once
I'd love
to not worry.

I can't.

They denied me.

A loan for $20.

$20.

I guess
I have to
put things into
perspective.

I have to be
thankful
for what I have.

Right now,
all I have
is you,
my paper,
my pen.

And if I keep up
my cheap, fucking stupid
lies,
I will have
nothing.

The ink will run out,
the pages will stay blank,
the love we had
will vanish,
completely.

Everything will perish.

Just like my credit.

What am I waiting for?

Let's do this.

Get it over with.

A bum
is what I'm destined
to be.

I'll just be a goddamned
bum
with nut cancer
and a horrible outlook
on life.

That's all I'll ever be.

The best I can hope for
is to keep you
around.

But I have to keep
my mouth
shut.

Who knows
for how long?

I can't keep
that act up.

I have to
accept
my fate.

Until then,
I'll have to make
every second
with you
last
an eternity.

That's really all I can do,
that's really all I'm good at,
is loving you.

By the way,
can I borrow $20?

I need gas money to come and see you.