entre nous?

yeah.
so,
it seems as if i've maybe gone and made a mess of things.
maybe,
but then again, maybe not.
just for the sake of true storytelling, in the spirit of articulately expressed ideas,
let's be crystal clear, neighbors-
i'm NOT a nice guy;
despite what my current semi-self-inflicted affliction of last-place finishes
would have you believe.
i'm actually a showboat, steamroller, and high-falutin' F*er in more ways than i'm not.
so while i may be lagging in the polls, in the rat race, on the social register,
and in the lists of jousting boasters and roasting roustabouts,
not to mention in the estimation of my clever caustic compositional style...
don't get it twisted,
i'm a sharp-witted, sharp-tongued, sharpshooter-from-the-hip-type
of hard-hearted homely homeboy with hot fire insults, tumults, and syllabic somersaults
spewing out from my lips and fingertips...
that's no joke.
i do what i do, duders,
with or without the state-sanctioned lexicon of sensitivity and tolerance.
i'm neither of those things far more often than the inverse.
and what's more,
that type of sh!t-talking words-hurt waterbaby business is
something well beneath the kind of roughshod selfish and inconsiderate
busted fillibustery blustery monologues that i employ as a means of communicating.
statements of black-and-white absolutism,
and unapologetic applications of slang, slurs, snark, sarcasm,
and hot, fiery, hate(in-my-heart)speech are what i'm more than okay
with unleashing into the ether of spirit and memory.
in fact, i insist on it.
too much is the right amount, friends.
i say it because i mean it.
hypersensitive tippy-toeing of the line,
and eggshell walking around the delicate sensibilities of niceness
just aren't likely to happen anytime soon.
that sort of considerate quasi-self-censored censure is something other
than that which i care to cater to.
make no mistakes, my ninjas-
my eyes are open.
this is a recurring theme.
so, no, it wasn't just you.
and that goes for you, and you, too.
*
regardless of any regard i pay or attempt to treat or entreat,
i'm alone all the time.
not by choice, but maybe by design.
however,
if the only solution is to take it down a notch, to less than eleven,
and spell out the invitations and hospitality available to the worthy thick-skinned
warriors, poets, and participants in fairy-flossed sweetness and cherry pie?
well,
then the choice is easy.
the wrench.
every time, all day long.
i say mean things, i do mean things, i'm not a nice guy.
an empty life full of terrible words.
it's all really happening, kids.
and i can live with it;
never quiet, never soft.....7x43