Just go with it

It's just so easy to say later. What are we going to do after I strip you down? Later on. What can I do for you tomorrow morning? Later, bye. And now that it's later? Fuck- Every unprotected thrust last night is chewed on the fat of this morning's break fest steak. There is a confliction of what need be worried most about: the cleanliness of your dick- riding that hedonistic roman whore- or the cleanliness of your sole- going along with that heathen slut.

Whatever it is, one thing is for certain: those gold bands and bracelets she wears are the only thing about her staying pretty. Those tracked up arms will soon turn to blown out tree branches. Dried up and tanned like leather. Christ, her ass has already fallen. You could already be the winner of this auction, sir, you bid SO hard for it.

Time to pay the piper, motherfucker.

When the needle is on the E line, every pop and fall of the engine is a sudtle dusting of worry. You know what I mean? These are the things we did and these are the things we got our selves into. What was said last night, rolling off the tongue, what was done last night, a kitana slit in the air, we do these things all so naturally. A primal urge that, when acted on, leaves us exposed to the most harshness of mother nature's domain. We make those calls on the assumption that it will be dealt with later. We assume later we will be more capable people. Better people.

We assume that those over draft fees at the bank will be taken care of easily on payday, when we're rich. But I don't even need to ask because you already know you're gonna need every cent you can get on payday.

Case in point. Here I am now, when I was gonna take care of all that shit. I am shit faced. Around me is a dull wrap of cotton and in me is only the knowledge that i need to be concerned with where I'm going. I'm so shitty. My plate has been expired months and months now. It only takes some asshole rookie to pull me over or it only takes one more knock of bad gas, and I'm done. I'm late. Is this the last knock before stall out? This is what I'm dealing with now.

Sure. no matter how young you are you were at one time younger. At some point in your life the lines of rule were more grey and fuzzy than they are now. Like the time I let a room go to a supposed member of the Dayton Family. I mean, he said he was Bootleg. And in retrospect the real Bootleg might as well have stiffed me on a room so that he could get his fuck on. Also, he, who ever he really was, had also stolen my pen.
I did not fear repercussions from my boss due to his express emphasis on negligence. Instead it was a feeling of short coming. The grimy feeling of the actuality of life. No fear, it is a third shift. So I watch the sun come up on third shifts. Some people see the rising sun as a nuisance, something that they unwillingly wake up to.

Did I get pulled over? No. Did I run out of gas? no. But the guy at the clinic told me I was too drunk to take a blood sample from. That fag-prick told me he would call the cops if I left in my car. Cocksucker. So now I'm dealing with it. Now I'm taking care of it the way I didn't want to but should have known I would.

Baby, I won't be there for a while. No. No. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just gonna take a walk. Pick up some empties, get some gas. Yeah, i'm sure, everything is fine.