True Bullshit

Baby?

I’m sure you’ll inspire a poem someday.

It’s not that your boring.

From another perspective we could just say I can’t articulate what your inspiration would sound like.

I’m sorry I came in your hair just after you washed it, but I heard that it make a great mosturizer.

I’m stocking up tropical fruit juice so it can taste just like tapioca pudding.

Let’s buy an extra 40.

We need fuel for the late night cartoon maraton and we both know that our attention spans are non-existant.

A fellow child of care-bears and nintindo.

I’ll try not to hog halo sessions all night and turn it low when your deep in a paper.

Kick me out the place often.

We exist in the odd pairs that live joined on the floor and then of to our seperate apartments.

Do you have extra lotion?

Those rug-burned knees look painfully sore and you are one behind in orgasams anyway.

We share a spare newport.

I swear it’s the last box that you’ll ever bum while you pack a fresh bowl for the simpsons.

It’s 3 in the morning:
cake humid air & we dry to a fan ossolating.

Your mother’s so ugly
she stood on the stoop with her face to the sky
and the sun blinked away in a flash.
______

one more for my baby in what has been a fantastic week of valentine’s day. Not that that matters of anything