Am I wrong or…

Is clear skin worth the fatal diarrhea?
Am I crazy for assuming that it isn’t?
Unlike others, I’ve no confidence
in anything, least of all
such grotesque phenomena.
Stoically, necks are snapped,
gears grind, congratulations all around.
A perfect spider’s web and a promise.
A case of mistaken identity
robbed me of my table
which is why now baby hits the high ball
a bit too hard and with equal force,
hits the floor. Fast forward
to the present moment’s car crash,
broken people screaming,
and suddenly I’m cast out of my career
as society’s latest mistake.
This is a hangover that never goes away.
Sooner or later, one comes
to the conclusion that everything
deserves to have the crap beaten out of it,
without exception. Well, save for my earth
murdering kicks that help me get
the jump on adversity. If only
I could drag an 18-wheeler,
I’d have a bit more beard to go around.
Who likes white people anyway?
I’m the worst one that I know,
always exchanging personas
whenever the opportunity puckers
up for a kiss. The viewing population
really digs this one, though
it’s not in a way that I envisioned.
That means something in this country
of brush and terrible jokes.
The lesson in all of this
is don’t piss where you swim

-r. miller

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