RUFF STUFFS


Heyo. Again, need to be more active on this damn thing. Accidentally wrote onto an old piece I had been working on. Here’s the rough result of what I have so far:

Thermometer said “god damnit” and blew its head off today.
It’s hot out here.
And I am an Irish-get-sun-burn-in-a-full-moon Yankee,
in an angry God’s southern country
and I am burning up down here
in the belly of America
in an ulcer
some folks call Texas.
It is hot here.
And it is big.
Like REAL big.
Like at least three hours in any direction big.
Like just rode a stampede belt buckle big.
It is burnt crock pot chili cook off stains,
it is sitting in your own sweat gripping gridlock,
it is wild fire smirk
and wink of blue bonnet heat stroke vomit
and I dont always know exactly how i got here.
Sometimes it feels like i got hit over the head
with a steam screaming radiator
and woke up bloody sweat sunburnt
and bourbon laughing
with a fresh Shiner to show off.
But it’s okay, y’alllll
It’s okay,
just slap some dip on it.
We’ll be okay.
These are the callouses I constructed
chasing a dream.
I wrote all this on this on a Whataburger napkin.
It seemed to make more sense that way
scribbled with the scent of beef, body odor, and bar close beating my nostrils
I tried to spell Navasota but didnt have any blue crayons.
They all melted in my car.
This place can be unforgiving like that to us Yankees
but still give us reasons to smile.
Like,
sundresses,
tattoos,
bicycles,
and barbeque.
I am beginning to understand that wet mouth religion…..

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