I hate ugly people.
But none of it means anything.
What is your fucking point?
It isn’t 1997. Knock that shit off.
Make me vomit.
You look fucking stupid.
It is 6 am, the van leaves in two hours, I havent slept. It is my turn to drive this morning, but Ive been out all night with you.
The coke tastes filthy as it drips down the back of my throat. You must not have paid much, still, it is free and Im not going to complain, at least to you. You brought me to this shitty dance club, theyre playing pop music. Pointless lyrics Im ignoring, auto-tuned over an incessant beat. I dance anyway. You grind your ass against my crotch, your hips attempting to move in time with the music, you havent got it down yet, and apparently you wont get it anytime soon because all of these songs have the same damn beat.
The show tonight was a success, we were paid more than our guarantee, a first on this tour. That added to the T-shirt sales we made has left me feeling rather generous, tonight I pay for my own drinks and even a couple of yours. The trips to the bathroom are sweetened by the nose candy, soured by the stares. Im filthy, drunk, disheveled and I dont fit in with this crowd. None of these kids are a part of our scene, I dont know why you brought me here. Maybe you’re not a part of my scene. Maybe you go to the shows strictly for the boys in the band, I havent paid enough attention to the shit coming out of your mouth to figure it out. Its the 4th week of the tour, or maybe its the 8th week. Im not sure, its been either a month or two months, too many shows to recall. Too many girls to remember and not enough to forget. I want to leave you and find my band, but my god damn cell is dead.
I talk you out of your pants in the bathroom stall and fuck you until you cum. Satisfied with the night you lead me out of the club and back to your car. You drop me off at the van and ask for a kiss goodnight. I step out of the car and close the door without saying goodbye.
I know I may complain from time to time that people on tumblr only pay attention to shallow love poetry or that not enough people read the things I post
but the truth is anytime a single person re-blogs something, anything, that I wrote, my heart jumps a bit in my chest.
To think that I created something that someone else enjoys so much that they want to show it to other people.
As if they are saying
Hey, read this
it says something I have been trying to say
It is a part of who I am or who I want to be
Just thinking of it sends an electric shock racing throughout my body.
Thank you for taking the time.