THIS POEM IS ABT MIKEY AND THE SUN

hey mikey

stop stopping

the damn

the icey spike

yr bro

asked me some

dumb question

about Meryl Streep

and when ever i think

about movies

i think

about the BIG CHILL

and chill man

and mirror glass art man

like it's a weekday

and we have cocaine

in our hair

lets stop cry 

it's cray cray

it's a baby

it's yr beautiful saliva

shakity

makes it more gravy

like i am a looser

emphasis placed on the goose

i mean

i can't fly a god damn fighter jet

but yr frozen lake

seems walkable

for these clumsy

pogobones my femur

compacts or impacts

or the moon doesn't

weigh a god-damned-cent

get the money

get the bag of pills

i think there is xanax

in the glove-box

i think words r a ton

of problems

like saying things wrong

like you sing a stupid heap

the whistling

the lisp

the dance you do in the ditch

my life of crashing

the hail 

peppering the hood of my chevy

hey lady

you r a handsome broad

the Earth

is smaller

than my want your hand

on my jawbone

swinging me

at the enemies