Forty: Lemon Tree and fuckface Ride Off Into The Sunset Together

Single in a double and singing in my dream,
smiling at the the fourth of  July. Stretching
sans obstacles, I grow to fill my own jar,
grinning and waving from the inside because
I just realised that I can see through and out,
onto all the others in their little jars. I like to
pick my own lemons, I have decided to grab
a damn stool and do it myself or margaritas
would be too rare. I think that fuckface is
probably fucking his own face but I don’t
think about it too much because he is only
fuckface now and not Fuckface. Besides, my
freedom is leading me to many cocktails, better,
bigger, more mature cocktails. I think what I like
best,  is that my jar is nothing but glass. It is safe
here, watching the world clashing lids, but one day
I shall meet another jar that will make me want to
break out and build a bigger, better, more mature jar
with him. We will have a lemon tree that we will both
pick from, and faces we will never fuck with. No
excuses, no matter how many margaritas we’ve had.


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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