Pin Cushion

So I thought I’d give it a try… and now I’m “stuck”. I was never into acupuncture, but men these days see it fit to submerge their needle into the softest part of me. I’m not a believer that it takes pain to feel good, but I keep getting "stuck" with more Bullshit…

I got quills yet I’m not porcupine. My back is full of the markings of the victors spear… But what’d you win? You had a deficit of excuses when I met you. So in my absence you’re still a bottomless hole of fecal extremities. The difference is now I’m convinced your shit doesn’t have a ceiling. For all I know you bathe in it. I’m already certain you chew it as mints. Try ammonia before you speak, it might help with the crap coming out of your mouth.

I guess when you enlighten the there after of the path the one before took you’re only handing out a road map and a tutorial, to get stabbed again. But who could be so cruel? What kind of heart could be that selfish to add to my bandages, especially if they know I just started undressing my wounds?

You can’t put a band-aid on shit. You have to flush it down the commode. The only thing that stings, is the blow in my intuitive certainty. It’s like I knew… But my questions and hesitations were silenced by verb play and words each day to reiterate the alleged nobility. I was certain of the risk… once bitten, twice shy. I even understood the idea that a sharp tongue truly holds a dull blade. I was cut, but to be “blunt”, you got to be razor-sharp to draw blood from these veins. Fortunately for me, this loser was not an expert marks-men… I dodged a slick bullet even though my hearts just a little maimed.

I was grazed, but I’ll recover. No one can ever be worse than the “other”. But as I remove these pins to add to my collection, and sweep up the gun shells and dispose of his waste… I thank God “truth” came early, she helped pull the thorn out my back and relieve the pressure of more useless waste. Shit stinks … it never makes for good company.

And yes… “Your roses really smell like BOO BOO.”-Andre 3000
You’ve been flushed!

© A. L. Lewis