Day Drinking

There is something shameful and


About drinking during the day


The warmth of the liquor

Coupled with the rays

Of sunshine creates

A euphoric feeling

Of self-confident opulence;

And don’t give a fuckness.


The type of liquor doesn’t

Even enter the equation

As the potency


Catches you like the roaming

Cat purring for a meal


And as I stumble

and stammer

and struggle

and stagger;

I’m worn

and ragged


and with all the odds

stacked against me;

I am still completely



In the end,

The House always wins.

between the lines

The words, formulated,
and meaningful,
are spoken to me,
and to me,
they make sense.

I’m supposed to do this,
and that,
and so,
that’s what I do.

But alas,
there was another message:
and completely unrecognizable to me.

And so,
she left,
and here,
I remain,
still trying to figure out what just happened.

doing what you love

“Do what you love”


I hear this phrase often,

Almost as much as,

“To be honest with you”

As if you were about to

Spew me a line of lies.


But doing what I love

Requires a certain


Ability to process

Poisonous chemicals

That destroy vital organs.

And to disregard


As if they’re ants

Which they are,

But the macro-view

Doesn’t apply here.


I like to die every night


And return to life every morning.
Eventually, there will be a mourning.


so many altimas

and even more black altimas

criss-crossing lanes on the streets

with windows barely cracked to release

the Florida heat or perhaps a mosquito

that made its way into the vehicle.


Each altima devours my attention;

rubbernecking, looking for that one;

you know, that one, the one you’re always

thinking about; dreaming about; imagining you’re with


sharing memories and thoughts you’d only


with that one.


I wish I knew if she still had an altima;

but then what else would I do while driving?

snap chat

A phenomenon

just occurred

in these modern times

and for this antiquated





I just had seven…count ‘em:


views on my snap chat.


The girl at the bar

apparently, a playmate

but who could tell these days

in this town of tans

and fake tans

and faker tits


But I reached the desired number


seven.  Seven views.


Just imagine


one hundred

thousand dollar


from each.


I need another drink

and maybe, just maybe

an eighth snap chat view


My life would be complete

and future generations

would bow down

and worship


like the old days,

when Zeus cleaned the floors.


the stalk;

nobody wants

to consume

that portion of

the asparagus.


I think I ate

at least

thirty pieces of

asparagus tips.


My piss smells like asparagus;

but surprisingly, it’s not green.


By happenstance, a woman;

neat and delicate and sweet

drinks one too many at the

local pub, where I’m staggering;


and we frolic without

our clothes

into my silk sheets.


What I didn’t know…

is that she swallows;

and all I could think about

was that if