When I peel back the skin on my fingers, I can almost see
my heart.
There are babies living solely off blenders full of mescaline
and peanut butter.
There are babies who live off of heart stickers
and red wine.
And there are homeless people living on trash.
When I flick my fingers,
I can make snow.
I like getting drunk alone.
Last night I drank in the quiet,
in the red and in the blue.
I satirized and drank beer
with my potato chips;
and I'm sorry, I spilled some
on your wedding dress.
Sometimes I think I satirize so much,
I'm not satirizing anymore.
I am the jock in high school;
I am the evangelical Republican;
I am the fat, unhappy American.
I need to cut my fingernails before
they start cutting other things.
My darling, my darling,
you can't live off the rum in my underwear,
and you can't live off talk radio,
and you can't live off my sore throat.
So if you are inside,
I swear, I swear to god,
I will drink us both to death.