Second Hand Confrontations
09/15/98

Our matching tattoos breath in the lust that covers our flannel bed sheets. Time outs takin to grasp our heavy breathes. The minutes beckon. Screaming loudly from across the clothes littered room. "Damn" I say, as I light my cigarette...

Each other, separate, yet wondering what if they were discovered? What is soft ears could no longer be nibbled on? These forbidden souls, tangle a web that they can not unweave. They dance among the many liars that deserve to die an awful life. Sitting and drinking at my table as if it was right. In red lingerie, I lay on the floor, covered in vomit and disgust. Haven't showered since the last time I was in school. Silent on the outside, raging and bubbling over on the inside. The grimy dishes out number the times I've actually in recent months. But not outnumbering the insects and mice. Climaxing feat of anger.

Super imposed and sometimes fraudlent love. Posters cover the cracks and Freudian slips. Ice tea delusions, drinking sometimes til my eyes stop paining me. Liars dillemia. Forgotten days resurface. Those days, I bet you want to hide from me. Skinny visons, empty stomaches and over filled ash trays, together in lust they lie. Devoid their heads. Remove ethics and bleach their morals, if they still remain. Feeding off their loneliness, thriving off of others.

DO YOU LIKE IT? Will you beat me at this game? Only if you end up dead in the streets, will you win. Cause then I can not torture and torment your soul into taking your own life.

Sick heads. Timed lust,by the hour, the infastructure fallen to your knees and sucks you clean. Strut you slut, work the streets where filth like you breeds. I've only lied once and it was to myself, when I decided to believe you.

Stop your lying. Generalize your complaints to one word that starts with "f" and ends with "k" and is 4 letters long. think hard. You are being paid to. Smile your wings, soar to the highest shelve in the room, passing the empty flower vase along the way, bring the secret stash of hash. Join the reunion with your ??.

"I met a girl who said she would love to let me." - a dying man's last words. Fast words. Help is missing. I am gone. He is gone. I'll call you soon.

Rick devotes time from his busy schedule every week to write this column, so READ IT!

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