That’s a Good Boy

I was on the verge
of a whiskey-drunk blackout
in a Southside Chicago
abandoned warehouse
turned underground party spot
when my buddy Brenden
pulled a handful
of “shitty press tabs,”
out his pocket.

He’d decide he couldn’t,
in good conscience,
sell them ‘cuz they were cut
with all sorts of God-knows-what.
So, I suggested we just eat ‘em-
all of ‘em.

So, we gobbled down this load
of Pez candy raver ecstasy
cut with Heroin and Speed.

Hours later, driving home,
the whiskey had griped me more
than all those mystery pills.
Apparently, I started a fight with my girl,
telling her, “Your nothing more than
a warm hole for me to stick my dick in.”

Next thing I know
it’s 4 a.m.
and there I am
high as Georgia Pines,
from the pills that decided
to take over the show,
sitting on the edge of our bed,
trying to get in my girl’s pants.

Reminding me what I said
less than an hour earlier,
she told me to go fuck myself,
that her warm hole was off limits.

So, I stumbled to the couch
and curled up with the dog,
whacked out of my head,
rubbing his fur covered belly
and somehow decide
it was a good idea
to jerk him off.

I was so fucking high
someone had to cum–
it didn’t matter who–
and I guess I figured
it might as well be
the only faithful one
in the room.

Scott Wozniak is a poet, short story writer, and champion monkey-wrench thrower. He has been published widely both online and in print. He has work coming out in print anthologies from both Lummox Press and Svenck Apache Press, later this year.