1. Sunday, March 12, 2017

    i torture myself 

    not with ropes or chains

    or high heeled ladies in catsuits

    and LED lit ears

    spiked boots and gloomy music

    in a dungeon

    far below the earths surface

    as they insult me with lies and fantasys

    where i did this or that

    and now i must be punished

    starting with this

    and then that.

    sooooo much of this, by the way. so much. omg. like woah.

    and then i have to clean up.


    you can always tell how easy a man has it by how soft his hands are.

    how few calluses, scratches, divots, tears.


    the affluent have scars, just not on their hands.

    but i dont torture myself that way either.

    i listen to news stations and political shows all day

    and all night.

    waiting for something juicy to come from the droning and speculation

    and history.

    but it rarely does.

    still, i wait.