Damn those dog farts stink!
Almost as bad as my dad’s coffee breath in church.
But at least they’re both honest.
I wonder if my soul stinks as much.
Because as of late, I haven’t been honest with myself.
I go back and forth between pain and pleasure.
Thinking of my dad…
Buy a donut.
Thinking of my mom…
Buy a dress.
Escape escape escape.
Distract distract distract.
It’s so easy to pretend it’s alright.
I’m across the world from them.
They can’t get me here.
But my credit card says otherwise.
I am buying to distract myself from my stench.
Because this wound is festering, brother.
Yet I just keep slapping band aids on it.
Today I’m getting a whiff of its misery and I’m not pulling back.
I’m not pulling back today because yesterday I promised I wouldn’t.
So here I am.