Objects in Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear

It's hard to tell
where the sun
rises.

It's hard to tell
the exact time.

It's hard to tell
which way
my life
is heading.

It's the greatest
mystery.

Might as well
turn up the radio
and laugh at those
picking their nose
and eating it.

Choosing Better

The blessings of life
are easy
to see.

A can opener.

The difficulty
of trying
to open a can
without one
is unreal.

Regrets.

Without them,
you'd be
in a big
fucking mess.

Private bathrooms.

Try taking a shit
in the men's restroom
during a Dodger game
at the 7th inning stretch.

Most
let these
blessings
slip by.

I prefer
to count them.

Each
and everyday,
in each
and every way.

The Man Who Ruined Lunch

There is no history

of them.

They’ve slipped by,

unnoticed.

Society was always

too preoccupied

with progression.

They were pleased

with this

invisibility.

They could even

carry out

their morbid fantasies

in broad daylight.

Mutilating stray animals,

stabbing unattended children,

hacking fingers

from the homeless.

Parents would tell

their children

not to play

so rough.

People wandering by

would look away

in disgust,

wishing someone

would do something

with these drunk bums.

Nobody even bothered

with the animals.

They were left there

to rot

with the filth

left in the back alleys.

Nobody even summoned

the authorities.

Nobody ever

did much

of anything.

So they kept

slipping by.

One afternoon,

I was having lunch,

when I noticed

a peculiar fellow.

He had on

a nice suit,

tall hat,

a monocle,

and a profound mustache.

A knife

was in his hand.

He walked behind me.

I could hear

his footsteps

stop.

A burning sensation

crept up

my back.

More and more,

the pain

flourished.

I turned around.

It appears as though

you’ve had

an accident.

The fuck I have.

You stabbed me.

Before he could answer,

I took out

my hatchet

and hacked through

his monocle.

People stopped

and stared.

He tried to take out

his knife once more.

Fingers began

to fall out.

Such an unfamiliar sight

to see them

unattached.

Different sizes,

shapes,

colors,

rolling around.

I hacked him,

once more,

on the back

of his neck

before he

slipped away.

Leaving his souvenirs

behind.

I stood there

for a moment,

wiping off

my hatchet.

Everybody went back

to their business.

I tried to too.

My lunch

was not as

enjoyable.

The bastard

ruined it.

The Curse

I am cursed.

So very cursed.

Everywhere I go,
everything I do,
every sight I see,
every scent I smell,
everything I touch,
is blessed.

I don't know which
evil witch
put this spell on me,
but I want to
thank her.

I want to
worship
the ground she
hovers
over.

I want to
kiss
the warts
all over her body.

I want to
live
in her saggy breasts
and squirt
all those
who cross
her wicked
path.

Everyone
deserves
to be this
cursed.

All they have to do
is
be open
to recieve
a lil bit
of sour
milk.

The Horny One

I've seen a man's
butthole.

It was gross
and brown.

He sent me
a picture
of it.

He wanted
to meet me.

Perhaps,
at a park
bathroom
around midnight.

I'm not sure.

I didn't read
the rest
of the email.

I was in shock.

I began
to cry.

Tears of laughter
rolled down
my face.

It was
the best joke
anyone
has ever
played
on me.

I left my computer
unattended.

My cousin took advantage.

He posted an ad
on craigslist.

Men seeking men.

I
was the horny one.

And they all
wanted
a piece.

They never got it.

Except for maybe,
my sight.

Of which,
can never unsee
the darkest depths
of man.

The Drain

He's a piece of shit.

Or is he?

He's never really
worked
a day
in his life.

He has a
bunch
of bastard children
running around
all over the county.

Confused and unloved.

He's done damage
here and there
and is not liked
by many.

Yet,
he's always
happy.

Could be the weed
or something else.

Either way,
it's a hard feat
to accomplish.

I wish to be
as happy
as him.

I, too,
have made many
mistakes.

Some days,
I can't get
past them.

I wish to have
his same smile
day
after
day.

Glowing
when facing
the burning sun.

Those horrible memories.

Everyone else
melting away
down
the drain
into an ocean
of misery.

Forgetting our
one true purpose
in life:
forgiveness.

Shooting the Shit

Here we go.

The same old response.

Again.

First,
they say,
I'd grab
the nearest
hottest
piece of ass
and fuck her brains
out.

Then,
I'd take
all
the liquor
and drink it
all at once.

I'd might even
kill someone.

Just to do it.

Just to see what it felt like.

The same,
the same.

Yes,
the plane
would go down
in flames
and everyone would die
and he'd have
the hugest erection ever.

Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Just once,
I'd love it
if someone
actually surprised me.

Say,
instead of a woman,
they would
suck on some
balls,
sober,
and then,
took a dump
on all
the liquor.

So if anybody wanted to
get drunk,
they'd have to
shoot shit.

Then,
say,
nobody dies
and there's one guy,
who has shit
on his mouth,
and it was the guy
telling you
he'd die
with the hugest erection.

That.

Now that,
is what
I call original.

Not the same old
predictable shit
these men
try
and pull off.

Again and again.

I'm Going

All of my heroes
took a chance
where there was
none.

All of my heroes
left
what they called
home.

To become
themselves.

To become
heroes.

All of them
didn't listen to
those voices
that told them
no.

You can't do this.

What if you die?

Some did.

Some survived.

Some
were never heard from
again.

They all
are inspiring me.

They all
are calling me.

Out
onto
the road
of the unknown.

A New Belief

I can't wait
to see
their faces.

Crying
and in
shock.

I'll be there
at
my own funeral.

Laughing
and thrusting
all those tears
right off
all their cheeks.

To me,
it will all be
one big joke.

Again.

Just as life was.

Not so much
for them.

They believe in
the devil.

They believe in
hell.

They must
want
people to suffer.

As far as
I'm concerned,
everyone
will be set
free
from all
of their beliefs.

All they have to do is
die.

All that will be left
is freedom.

Freedom
to roam
and go to
your own funeral.

If you wish.

We can both
fuck with all these
devil worshipers.

Then move on
into
another dimension.

Where there are no
jail cells
or
cops
or
bills
or
dirty dishes.

Just everlasting jokes.

A Pimp and His Lady

Is that
really him?

I wasn't sure.

You never can tell.

Some people
go out of their way
to be
someone else.

But,
there he was,
Carlos Santana.

At a bar,
with a Santana cover band.

He wasn't playing.

He wasn't drunk,

He was picking up
our empty beer bottles
and taking them
to the bartender.

He was a good busser.

We watched him
for awhile.

After a couple more beers,
we asked him.

I don't remember his reply.

I don't think he
really responded.

I didn't care.

I just wanted him
to dance
with my woman.

I was a pimp.

Carlos was a trick.

He paid me
with a smile.

My lady and I
went on
to the next bar.

Hoping for
a lil bit
more than he was
offering.

Where Did it All Go?

Your whole life's
ruined.

Your home's falling
apart.

Your love's
dead.

Your inside's
rotting.

Dying of old age
way too young.

Barely getting up
and when you do,
there's the bottle,
pills,
shitty food,
and an obscene amount
of tv.

This is
the life
of someone
who does not
love
themselves.

This is
the root
of all evil.

This is
the way
you live
your life
everyday.

Expecting miracles.

They'll never come.

Not
for
you.

A Threat

It was in
a black box.

Shinning
in the sun,
minding its own
business.

Someone noticed it.

They immediately
called the cops.

You see,
this is the
happiest place
in America
and we can't have
any
sort of suspicious activity.

The cops put down
their donuts
and raced over.

Sirens warning the whole city.

They said,
it's a bomb.

Swat came next.

Millions of dollars
spent
to protect
our lovely lil city.

They got the box,
prepared to diffuse.

That's when
they heard,
not a ticking,
but a hard
thump.

The cops, the swat,
and all of San Luis
watched
as they opened
the box.

Expecting
the
worse.

To our surprise,
there was no
explosion.

A sigh of relief.

It was just
a dildo.

The happiest place
in America
still safe.

For now.

Do Us A Favor

There I was
at
another party.

It was the same ol
boring bullshit.

Cheap horny guys
trying to pick up
stuck up women
with even
cheaper lines.

And all the women
were trying
too hard
to look hot.

They were all losing.

Except one.

She was
pregnant
and drinking
for two.

She was also
smoking.

It must've been
normal
because
no one
did
anything.

They didn't
say
anything either.

They just
let her
kill
the baby.

Me too.

But who knows?

That baby
could've went crazy
one day
at school
and decided to
shoot up
everyone there.

Including
your kid.

So I guess,
She was really
doing us
a favor.

So were we,
by letting her be.

I'll Pass on Dessert

We found
a pocket pussy.

He claimed
it was his
roommate's.

It was
fucking gross.

My friend
pulled it out
of the box.

I thought,
why?

It was brown
and slimy
and worn out.

It had
more miles on it
than an 101 year old
mexican prostitute.

He inspected it
and started to stick
his finger
in it.

As a joke,
I guess.

I had
no idea
what to do,
especially when
he began
licking
his fingers.

My decision
was made for me.

I did not
want to stick around
and see
what he was having
for dessert.

The First

There I was
sleeping
outside
again.

Usually,
I somewhat
remember
how I got there,
but on this
occasion,
I did not
recall
anything.

I time traveled.

Yes,
I am
the first person
in the history
of the world
to conquer
the unconquerable.

How did I do it?

Well, well,
it was all too simple.

All I did was:
go to the bar,
had 4 beers,
leave my 5th beer
unattended,
have a stranger
roofie it.

The rest was history.

I ended up in
tomorrow.

The night was gone.

I was in my room.

My butthole hurt
a lil,
but it's a small price
to pay
for being
the first.

Our Furry Angel

We finally
got a house.

It was my mom's
first
and it was nice
and big
and ours.

We got dogs too.

3 of them.

Life was good.

We were happy.

The dogs too.

Until the economy
went to shit.

My mom
could no longer
afford much
of anything.

She lost
her house,
her mind,
her dog.

His name was Jett.

A family friend
took him in.

They had a daughter
who had cancer.

They met.

Jett
made her smile.

The first time
since she was given
her death wish.

She forgot about
everything
and just played
with him.

He was her miracle.

People may not believe it,
but he
took her cancer
away.

She went on
to become a child
once more.

He gave her life.

He gave his life.

After he died,
everyone
was devastated.

We had lost
our furry angel.

But,
he did
his part.

He did
what the doctors
failed at.

Repeatedly.

All of this
happened
for a reason.

We wouldn't
take back
a single
moment.

I Prefer Life

We have to wait
for experience.

It's the only way.

Without it,
we are all
children.

Playing in a field
getting stung
by beetles
and stepping in shit.

Shit helps.

But it's not enough.

We need
incarceration,
mutilation,
humiliation.

Everything
we don't
want.

Because
if we were left
in that field,
We'd be
finished.

Extinct.

Like the rest.

Do you
want that?

I sure as fuck
don't.

Explains A Lot

We were at a softball game.

Well,
we were
no where
near it.

We were
on top of a
shed,
looking down.

It was about
10 feet
up.

I got
a lil too close
to the edge.

Gravity
took hold.

When I awoke,
I tasted
gravel
in my mouth.

It was actually
bits
of my
teeth.

My head began
to hurt.

I heard the crack
of the bat.

Someone hit
a home run.

I got up
and walked
toward the screams.

My mind
stayed there.