Garbage

I am tired. 
So fucking tired
Of sucking you
And fucking you
I can take out the garbage on my own.
You are no longer my home. 
If I had all the money in the world
I would buy nerves and guts
And a new dress
That would sway
And jump
And shout for joy
As you'd watch me walk away.
No longer tired. 
But so alive.

Terror

Terror
Alright, alright I’m coming out with my pants up and my hands in the air.
The chase stops here, lower your guns, and tone down your rhetoric of terror.
I knew what I was doing, seeking her out, sneaking her out of celibacy.
The victim in question has wounds that I need not clean.
The abused do not apply to me.
But now the crowds are talking, associating me with the sinful and guilty.
And I could ride out the storm on my pride alone,
But this fight’s not a fight worth fighting for.
So you win, I get it. I’ll drift back to solitude and search the open sea.
I hear there’s plenty of opportunity, if I just cast my bait out properly.
if I just stop stealing the catch of weaker men, stop my Danny Ocean tendencies.
Tylor Sherman