12/25/2007

I could tell you of lost loves,
lost money, and lost times.
I could croon softly in your ear
and whisper sweet sexy sensual
nothings.
I could tell you of broken hearts,
broken knuckles
broken noses
broken broken
broke.
I could tell you of hookers
and taxi cabs
and grams of
cocaine
hidden from the world
behind a plastic door.
I could tell you about the rages
the anger
the fear.
I could tell you of the suicides
and of how many times
I've lost myself
in vain
to the heart's of girls worldwide.
I could tell you of the lies I've told
dished out
unassumingly.
I could tell you of pissing myself
in a drunken stupor
on a cold hotel room floor
in Cleveland, Ohio.
I could tell you of the times I've cheated
with other women
or the times I've put the scam on a poor fool.
I could tell you of vomiting my guts out
onto a cold damp Michigan driveway
after pulling a blade on
some unfortunate lost soul.
I could tell you of kissing your best friend on her lips
I could tell you of stealing money from your sock drawer
I could tell you of crashing your computer because of the Internet porn I downloaded
I could tell you it
all.
All of it.
The dirtiest
most lowdown goddamn
darkest
secrets
I have.
But, I mean it is fucking Christmas.
Do you really want to hear that shit
today?