current interest: composing horrible stream-of-conscience poems (that's pronounced 'po-EMS' by the way)

driving home from work 1/29/2011
so it goes:
dirty talk
Jameson shots
bitches
30 stiches
and sore muscles
you gotta hustle
"you touched me"
oh honey
no
I have to go
speed by 1000 night clubs, dive bars
past potential futures
with unsuitable suitors
in fast cars
bad times
listening to Sublime
I was bullshitting
just kidding
it's not 1996
I'm in a fine fix
listening to some old mix
dragged down by old frustrations
lifted by new motivation
crooked teeth
crooked smile
"won't you stay awhile?"
check engine, check engine, check engine