I Should Put Lipstick On My Ass

‘Cause That’s What I’m Talking Out Of

I just shuffled through

Some of my journals

And realized

That I purge so much crap

Out of my brain

Ruining blank white virgin pages

With what could be called

“Useless garbage”.

I mean

Who am I kidding?

Tripe like

When I was sitting on a bench

In a very small town

In New York state

Near the railroad tracks

While the same people

Passed by

Back and forth

Back and forth.

Uuuuuuuugggggghhhhhh!

Or feces like

When I was sitting in my car

Waiting for AAA

To come and change a flat tire

Because the car I was driving

Didn’t have a jack

So I couldn’t change it

Myself.

Throw up!

An absolutely embarassing

Piece of unfinished poop

About when I got branded

And the stupid dork that was doing it

Kept asking me if I was ‘okay’.

Oh my God! I just wanna curl up in the corner

With my blankey

After reading that drivel!

Here is a piece

I’ve been struggling with

For way too long

That I should just rip this wart

This eyesore

Outta here

And throw it in the trash.

Or better yet...

Burn it

It’s so trivial.

Don’t want to chance anyone

Reading that one.

And then

Here it is...

The gem

The sparkling diamond.

A drawing

Snuck into my journal

By my son

When I wasn’t paying attention.

It’s one of his awsome

Crude

Stick figures

With a crazy hairstyle.

It’s supposed to be me.

And in a word balloon

Floating above

The figures head

In nine year old print

Is simply the word

“Butthead”.

The best piece

In my journals

And it’s not even mine.