Memories all, but some blacked out

by maddrunkgenius

Everything terrible, everything horrid.
Garbage in, garbage out.
Except never out,
always collecting.

Kitchen corner piled trash:
never opened paper mail,
almost-empty cans dripping
sticky sweet puddles solid underneath.
Brown longnecks, stripped label-naked,
stuffed to fit wherever in.
Grease-soaked pizza boxes stacked
navel high with rocky crusts
growing mold fuzzy-hairy,
like the technicolor garden in the sink,
it filled with dishes twice past the brim,
casualties of a housemate standoff.

Living room Solo cupped,
living room paper plated.
Living room strewn:
empty half-wrappers,
bags of Cheeto crumbs & dust.
The guitar leans behind a chair,
in tune, maybe, no strings missing.
Stains, you know, stains here-there
Memories all, but some faded.
The red wine spill never comes quite out
in the morning.
Coffee-yellow carpet,
burnt-holed carpet,
from when the hookah coal tumbled clumsy out.

Gallon jug outside the door,
pregnant with cigarette butts,
some few lipstick kissed,
leaking ashy rainwater from cherry-melted plastic wounds,
bursting like a two-day ripe corpse
with all its maggots
in poison stillness frozen.

In the street,
a red-blacked baseball cap,
gasoline-doused & set on fire till
streams of crossing piss choked it wetly,
hissing smoke till flames no more,
an end to the gift of a rakish father,
dead to his son, laughing sobbing drunk.
Come daylight what vapors saved in handle Everclear,
burn the nose, cause throat to gag
where what was spent had bought
hoot and chortle and liquid purge ethanol.

Everything horrid, till after gone for good.