Words by Bryson Avery

i was made to win
by pats on the back
and shy grins
forget the morning when we made plans
walk the dog
wash our car
im too far gone to even hit the snooze
made an escape to a place that is too hard to even sit
forget it
ill just drink and laught at it
until it becomes me
me becomes it and a dark corner
a bag
a drip of blood
no bandaid
no crutch
my body is deprived
but i keep tellin him he dont need much

___________________________________________________

i try and make these faces
on the train
contain
contained content
not crazy
not too crazy
on my way somewhere
i swear
maybe my home
(someones couch)
from the night before
but whos to judge who?
you?
castrated by your cellphone
impaled by your bluetooth
forgotten by your wife
and son
remembered by your boss
when its time for budget
cuts
what a fucked rut
you made a moat and filled it with cement
ill be asleep
(on someones couch)
content
contained content
with
a dollar and seventy five cents

___________________________________________________

presents dont matter when it comes to square feet
nothing is fair
especially lust
and these chiseled chins
spend a night with begging eyes
he will spend this time
sifting thru
numbers
and texts
deciding whats best
for a broken boy
full of cum
and pelvic thrusts

___________________________________________________

drugs need friends
they need faces to build themselves up to
and
eventually let down
used to be ok with four
but now
seven is boring
find yourself in a two bed apartment
at three in the morning
in the living room
on your phone
looking for one friend
wake in the morning
repeat

(waiting on a reason not to wait)
(too late)
(wish that door handle would shake)

___________________________________________________

i always blame my repuation
but
thats me
to them
thats me
cut and dry
drunk and high
gimme gimme
forgive me
for the other night
and all the other nights
that i have been
me
to you
because its not your fault
you arent a deaf and dumb doormat

PAGECHECK

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