I’m not f#ckin with you! Take it all! Take my confidence, mash it. My wit, pulverize that sh!t. My good intentions, throw them under a bus. My heart is the strongest, most deliberate actor in this war to date, you put that out to hang on the clothesline.
Now, when we wrestle in my dreams, you know it’s an over-politicized smackdown. It’s wack how the instigators get paid to hate. I got my sharpie writing “over-due” on every DOA casket I ride past as check marks litter my black-book/ roster. I have no numbers to call when I’m ready and that’s a heartbreaking shame if I ever heard one. All my life, all I’ve wanted to do is concentrate all my energy-sharing “love” into a laser beam-like fashion and leave hashmarks on the leopard print wearing hunnies. You think she’ll wear my ring? You think she’ll sing a song like she even wanted to remember me? You think she thinks of me at all on her off time? She ought to embrace the ceiling-less room and bounce up and down. We ought to catch a glimpse of the cow jumping over the moon TOGETHER, HAND IN HAND comforting each other.
Hint to her if you see her that I’d love to correct my faults. I’d love to go ring shopping. I’d love to make her breakfast in bed. An additional cup of coffee will never be too little of a thing for me to throw my whole shoe putting on apparatus into action. I look forward to carrying her around on my shoulders, mock chicken fighting. I’ll hit that fascination with a wet pool noodle. I’ll inject my two cents, hoping for twins. In the end, we will win.