i just want to start out by saying that rain sux my puckered asshole.
all the NYkers in the house know what i’m saying.
i am wetter than a whore who needs $$$$.

secondly, gin is not only for getting drunk—
it is a magical elixir.
much like perl, it is automagical.

and rejection. automagical.
do i always have to lie to people?
why can i not be honest, and have it be right?
whenever i try to get my dick wet, i am constantly reminded
that i have to lie about myself.
i have to be the rich guy, the smart guy, the guy that will carry the girl…..
i thought that the women’s movement was to get away from that.
make up a mind.
make up my mind.

even though i know there is a sun for me in the old hood,
i am still hurt by rejection.
everytime i have the heart (or drunken lack of inhibitions), OIswego
gets shitupon.

i miss the old days, when everyone was as brutally honest as me.
when people didn’t murder my heart.
if it was a sport, i’d be the first pick in the draft.

then there were none……
except me.
and my fistfull of sadness……………………….