returning from swillville
he looked like a character from
a bad saturday morning cartoon
the bad guy
with silver tonic
grey hair
I know, I'm no fun anymore, my paintings don't talk
I just buy expensive old guitars
and wish my foot didn't feel like rubber
I sleep too much
exercise to infrequently
think too much
share too much and too little
I looked at the pictures and thought
what the fuck where is the joy ha ha
I'm not making this shit up
it's as real as a fucking deer tattoo on a hipster's ass.
stay now dear lady
let the light in
wait for the sound of the train
take the dog for a walk
drink a Pepsi
blow the futile horn
for all the lost souls