it was a minivan ride to gas-stations doing the unthinkable, handing out free cigarette samples, with balls of menthol to tinker between my fingers. and i met you there, dressed in a pair of camouflage cut off trousers, with a wife-beater to match. i tried to nap on towel rags in a dirty garage, locked behind broken doors, with oil-stains on the floor. was met with speaker phone conversations with a girl drenched in glitter and sequined attire. the sequence of a night i never met with accomplishment. an abysmal view from the back lawn sitting on the lap of someone i spoke nothing at, except to refute the insults to my intelligence of sunsets being beautiful in such deplorable settings.
that white porch since then, has faded and corroded even more, that i doubt its hue is even white, or any color close to that. spider-bugs galore hugged every nook and crevice of that 12 by 12 foot entrance to a hard to break into with credit cards and booby pins shabby-ass front door.
windows defeated with dirty sheets; not good enough. stuck with words on my tongue that didn't fall off with loud enough sounds. taming lamp shade light to spark the soot you'd soon time with tight hourglass casket-shaded shapes on your bedroom wall. my least favorite part of planning these sorts of disasters; asking masterminded questions with responses heeding no answers.
that divorcee watched with eager eyes as i carefully placed earnest kisses on the sweetest pornographic pieces of his penis with nonsensical smiles proposing meanings. i'm only wishing.. teasing myself, with meaningless visits.
pyromania ensues insurance on green and blue eyes, as they pass.
another ex, but certainly not my last.
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