white label friday

we must be the same person cause we wear the same paint

today it's
mud and
chipped green nail polish and
shame

it's not that i don't trust you
but it's
that bottle
that your little hands
which you've noted are just about as big as mine
and white than anything under the sun
seem to be scraping the bottle

it's that
(second)
bottle

it's that twenty-minute window
where you drop your pretensions
and love strangers
until someone you know
disrupts it
with themselves

their own bullshit

and i never want to hurt you but
sometimes
i really want to hurt you
a little

where all that's left in the morning is an
aura
of
guilt

we know how to press each other's buttons

and i like you too much

it's just that
...


i've dated adicts

i've dated alcoholics
exclusively
for over a year now

i've known
biblically
junkies, classical pianists, mud wrestlers, mural painters, old friends, dominatricees, choir girls, jazz dancers, smokers, drinkers, face-splitters, blood-spitters, deejays, sculptors, tattooed, pierced, and retail, bloody retail, retail, retail and girls who just need a way to escape

and lord there's so much you seem to want to escape

and mourners and morning sex and every other day, i'm mourning sex

and cutters, and whores
(not the way men mean when they call someone 'whore' but..
((whores))
and catholic buddhist wiccan atheist suicidal seeking treatment met at a party girls with husbands whom live with their fiancees

and maybe i'm a scumbag too

and it's starting to hurt like _____
but the word is two heavy
for people who can't even hold their heads up high
so we look at each other
with salt in our eyes
and whisper

i like you too much