Life Explained as a Messy Beautiful Failure.

dockers-k1-khaki

Did we succumb to our fates?
As we drank to fall asleep
Hoping the whiskey would provide a tranquil yawn
To combat the violent hiccups of yesterday.

But it was Josie’s first time.
From across the room
The familiar caress of dental abuse resounded
As she swiveled her jaw-
Routine as a bovine chewing cud.

And Jose snorted a rail with fury,
Then vaulted onto the table
Like it was a soapbox fit for a martyr.
He focused his preaching through touch,
Leaping towards Garrett-
And Garret’s vantage became that of a stitched seam,
Presented on a pair of khaki Dockers.

By the 3rd sunrise
Josie was wiping tears
Off her speckled complexion,
While a tattooed smile
Provided a platform for irony.

“I don’t understand,” she said, “why can’t I stop smiling!
I hate this! I wish you never would’ve offered it to me.”
I just continued drinking-
Knowing that once the whiskey murdered my sin
I would be able to bathe in the blood of raped REM cycles.
“At least you’ll have rooted Laugh-Lines
To show you lived a happy life,” I quipped.
“Fuck you,” she exclaimed, hacking up the phrase
Like projectile vomit.

By the 4th sunrise I was the only one awake
To watch daylight touch the blinds and grow their profiles
Across the kitchen floor.
Then Josie woke up
Stared blankly at a crack in the wall
And I think for a moment she understood
That darkness exists forever
Beside the shimmering pretty things.

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