DynamiteWithaLaserbeam's profile

Knowing you is like being part of a club Yea, well I’m tired of paying dues Of waking up early on Tuesday morning Because you’re on acid and ready to talk You tell me to get a pen and paper No, wait, better yet a tape recorder This is how you say the Bible would be In 2006 I say I don’t think Jesus was lit It starts You give me your filthy ideas for movies and inventions I think already exist Life mottos that sound more like bumper stickers than mantra Are you getting this? Are you getting th...

No one asks me what I’m doing on Friday nights anymore. Oh, a select few of my friends will answer my phone calls Sunday through Thursday, but on those eves of drunken debauchery they will go from Canada to Mexico if it’ll help them avoid me. I don’t care. A beer’s a beer whether you drink it alone or with four other assholes drinking it at the same time. A football games the same no matter where you see it and a great play is still a great play without some dickhead shouting, “Did ya see th...

Sitting in the back of Bus 57 in my wrinkled white button-down blouse and plaid skirt my mother bought at a rummage sale – the wrong shade of gray but I said they were just faded – I didn’t realize why everyone thought it was such a big deal for Jeffery Favreau to kiss me. Jeffery had eyes like a movie star, deep, thoughtful, and aqua-marine. His hair was longer than our school’s rigid dress code permitted, the side pieces falling just shy of his earlobes, the front hiding his eyebrows, and ...

If being loved makes you uncomfortable Then you’re more fucked up than I am Yet somehow you drew me in like The first fifteen minutes of a Lifetime original And I waited, keeping an eye out for Anyone to come barging into the den Demanding to know when I became so cliche This is the last poem I’ll write for you And it’s the first one I don’t care if you see How could I think you were different? It must have been the way lights angled In your soul and cast a shadow familiar Like every lost toy...

Sal lived alone and had done so for the last fourteen years. It had started when his fourth wife, Priscilla, had finally had enough of him and his whiskey and his gambling at casinos. “Good riddance, Sal Montgomery,” she had said, “Expect to be hearing from my attorney.” This did not shock Sal much. It had happened just this way three times before. Only those times it had been vodka and horse races. Sal changed to whiskey because it was cheaper and to gambling at casinos because it was indoo...