Truth doesn't remember

I feel like typical Kenosha, everything waiting.
They all stopped.
There must be a sign overhead: Clouds Beware.

I agree with most messages,
But I may not agree with you without a trip to the walk-in
Where you can pin me to a 2008 calendar.

Lick your own crotch and drool.
Don't remember bad times or bite things in May.
Keep my germs and we can have a wonderful relationship.

You're all tired, my 20-year Boy Scout.

You believe about your beliefs.
It's not just the way you're delivered to church.
You're one of the few people with God.

Yes. Yes. Yes.
Hanging out a day or two late.
Everything you say will work.
The way you lived your life wasn't broken.
Truth doesn't remember who you used to be.


By the time I get home, my paper for myself will have died

And the clocks on the wall will stop seeming smarter.