Tragically Funny Like Astroglide

this shit writes itself daily, daily like my lack of desire for trendy clothes,

never mind that was probably a lie, lie like the meretricious models of fashion shows,

sometimes i curse - go ahead, choose your definition for the aforementioned word,

what? like the conversations i have with myself - afraid that god might have overheard,

it was a joke silly bear, just me - constant disbelief not part of the human condition,

'i love you's trapped, locked and shackled in the basement - unhealthy like poor nutrition,

any friends i have want to use me, use me to the end like each loyal ancala hat,

repeatedly tiptoe, then gradually step on me - max, your new welcome mat,

i sound like a babbling idiot to you, well maybe i'm drunk,

hahaha i'm just saying that! unfortunately stylish like saying 'fuck, i'm crunk!'

we're all a bit gullible at times - remember when i told you about my amazing social graces?

kind of like that, reality: i have about as much hope for life as a pair of cotton shoelaces,

relationships: recurrent only in my writings, hints of the wonderful and pristine,

i reread what i wrote to take another hit, flush out the bad like listerine,

sometimes i have to tell myself to step back, explain it all with Vonnegut's 'so it goes,'

hold my hand now. tightly. for only through this shared perspiration love truly knows.

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