so he tells me his dad
is a royal asshole right
he cheats on Mom with some skank
who never made it past the ninth grade
some blonde bitch who isn't even attractive
you know the type
orange skin and smiles spilling all over the place
like vomit on a windshield
anyways he fucks her once or twice a week
and then comes back home reeking of her
all smeared with her cheap lightblue eyeshadow
on his tragicdrunk greasy skin
and pretends to have been working
he's always yelling beginning-of-the-month-too-busy
end-of-the-month-so-busy
like they don't fucking know
so he says to me
he'll kill him
and her if he feels like it
someday, soon, tomorrow, tonight
with a knife or a gun or his bare hands
if he's high enough
and i go
well
see, at least you know
you can say: that is the jerk who made me
this is the asshole who would make my breakfast
and then scoop up some cereal from my bowl with his dingy hands
this is the fuck-up who once dropped me on the head
while playing Airplane or something
this is the doofus who told me i would look cool
in a hawaiian shirt under a vest for that party
and yeah you know
you're lucky.
you got cereal
& Airplane
& hawaiian shirts
you'd be surprised at how big
unfilled fuck-up spaces
can get in your heart