Pot Helps pt. 6 (The Ocean)

I guess I'm real sick of opening this box and seeing that


fucking pair of brass knuckles you purchased outside of Orlando at the liquor store that sold bullshit Absinthe which you bought anyway for $49.95 and tasted like fucking JP-4 and the way


you successfully broke my Mom's ex-boyfriend's maxilla in two separate but equally painful places and also probably took out a good portion of his front and upper teeth specifically the


central and lateral incisors and maybe even the canines, the teeth you call your fangs, like we had used to pretend we were vampires when we were child-like in 2006 swimming the carpet with a head of acid and tossing a knife across


the room to each other and now all I do is sit around and cash checks and flip through my 12 various News and Weather stations that I acquired with the purchase of the ATT U-Verse U450 TV Package and I sit in this room attempting to not get mad at or involved with


the bullshit zeitgeist of which I submit myself to everyday like I'm sitting in some boat in the middle of the ocean of ping-ponging-American-political-pundit-scaremongering-bullshit and the boat purposefully has a tiny hole in it to allow at least a good part of the ocean(1) in over time so I have to reach

for my bucket and physically scoop and put the bullshit(2) back in the ocean(3) where it belongs and it's not just the ocean or the bucket or the boat but the whole thing of it all combined that I seem to like or fall into doing over and over easily and I'm sending these


brass knuckles back to you because I cleaned them and now I need you to pleasantly surprise me and break my face.



Footnotes:
1- (of bullshit)

2- (from the ocean)

3- (of bullshit)