My New Ruger

My anger finds interesting ways to manifest

Most nights I watch footage of nine eleven while I get wrecked

And sometimes I look you up on my computer

And I stare into those empty lying eyes

Sometimes I try to get back in touch with you

But you ignore every single one of my desperate tries

You're the sugary sweet smell of morning feces

After a night of trying to drink my sad self to death

You're the dried semen stains on the crawlspace floor

From when you used to suck on my fucking dork when we first met