Tuesday Routine

Which is followed by swigs and shots

Glistening gold angels

Their faulty auras from neon lights

And I hope eventually these things

That act as mercinaries for my subconscious

Neither good or bad

Will take control and somehow

Do the work for me

Make me permissable

Somehow put me where I want to be

Behind your eyes

Foolishly, my better self intervenes

And the end result is you and me

Making our own concoction

Of flirtatious awkwardness

So that I can report back to my friends

"Do you think she likes me? I can't tell."

But he is only half-listening

While he makes concoctions of his own

So I have another drink

Check the sports scores

And wait for anything to happen

Possible debauchery

But probably not

Maybe a slice on the way back

Not sure yet

Now that is my idea of a good time

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