I'll list who I think I'm fooling: all the fools named you.
back of the napkin like kneecapping, what's a boy to do?
Oh, let's dance like Hobbesian things.
Marionettes on DNA string.

The best thing I've got going for me: how bad people can be,
and how unlikely it might seem that that's just what you just might see.
I figured out you're all the same,
save for measurements and names.

Two fingers into the whiskey,
two fingers in your....evening, and
I'm leaking honesty,
things I've thought unconsciously:

This night started now years ago
with another woman that I wanted to know
she said “Coward, where's your pride?
no one likes a boy with a glass hide.”
Shall we dance?

So I keep my hands out of my pockets, and do just what I read.
Groom illusions, eat confusions, pray to god you're braindead
and you won't see the neurons misfire,
their confused reused desires.

Two fingers into the whiskey,
two fingers in your....evening, and
they taste like daddy issues,
delicious daddy issues.

Sleep tight, dear absentee.
Because you're a scumbag, just like me.

But this night started decades ago,
with another woman that I wanted to know.
Inherited her hollow heart;
now I need you to play her part.

Standing in,
saying love's not a synonym for fiction.