But we don't hate Tom Waits.

You probably hate me.
It’s lost its initial sting, I’m sure, and has slowed to a dull ache, deep at the bottom of your cerebral cortex. You would know the right place in the brain for hatred, but, I don’t, so I won’t fake it. Wherever it is, it most likely crouches, gargoyle- like. It is an unwelcome squatter weighing heavily on your mind.
It steadily puffs Newport cigarettes, spitting smoke rings beneath your closed lids, and forcing raw red- rimmed owl- eyes open. Maybe it has kept you awake for nights with its whispering, a Tom Waits gravel-coated throat, choking up ever-occurring offences. And, in the morning, you probably wake up sore and scratched from chaffing convictions, a clobbering aural clusterfuck, crying without knowing why.
You probably hate me.
You probably hate me, but, at least we still carry something in common.
Because I probably hate me too.

But we don't hate Tom Waits.

abigailswallow

Joined May 2008

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  • Rex Inkpen
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