Too much honkeytonk.
Once upon a time my head exploded
With bright gory splashes of neon blood,
Green grey matter sticking like spaghetti
To rubber matted nightclub floors.

Now I leak slow grief,
Warbling croons seeping from my pores like whiskey sweat,
Down to the light sawdust jukejoint floors,
Saturating the pine shreds a dark amber.

My love was always absent,
Starved slowly by the quiet poison.
I replaced it with idealism,
Utopian dreams painting my sky in Sistine majesty,
Brightlit future hopes crutching me up.
No dice. Nothing there. Shit or get off the pot.
Either way, there’s nothing but flushables.

Like I said, I'm not one for poetry. I find it weepy and melodramatic at worst, vague at best. I'm posting this anyways.

This poem isn't really about anything. It's pointless stream of consciousness bullshit. Shame on me. 1:28 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm