a dreamer and his beat-up side-dish trophy girls
parade around the mind's stage of bukowski sex-life obscenities
all the while i listen to an audiobook on the deconstruction of love
giving underdeveloped arguments about why i don't seem to say sorry and please

"the idol and the slave both depend greatly on one another"
all the while i'm pacing around the stale apartment that used to be an abandoned zoo
getting a visit from my long-time co-idol and brother
a warm and loving echo out of a bottomless void, which both he and i enjoyed, and still do