Words That I Can't Even Spell

I had a dream that ink tattoos didn't exist anymore. People were getting patches embroidered all over their bodies instead. So I got a jelly fish on my right shoulder blade and didn't like it because I couldn't see it in the mirror every time I looked at myself. I woke up annoyed.


I'm smart, see, I got it going on in the terms of current events, mathematics, literature, and business. But somehow I'm still so stupidly gullible and I fall for the one thing our mothers, sisters, best friends, and therapists said not to; drunk talk.
But catching it this time was equivalent to a perfect self-given orgasm. I mean, it pretty much was that. I gave myself a pat on the back AND a high-five. I'm learning and I really love learning.


 I have four addictions.
Caffeine
Hydrocodone
Sex
Alprazolam


We can all guess the two that I probably need to shake, right?
As I was describing my cocktail instructions to him last night, I realized how unattractive I sounded. How dumb it was that I admitted I have a problem but I am still fulfilling the addiction every fucking day. I'm not looking for attention. Seriously. I don't need it. I get attention everywhere I go, every day.
"What does your chest tattoo say?"
"Hey, you're pretty."
"Wow, you have nice eyes"
"I like your shirt."
"Killer ass"
"Beautiful hair"
"Cute shoes!"
"You're so funny"
"You're so clever"
"Your vagina feels so good"


But where's the, "GET YOUR ASS SOBER NOW, YOU DUMB, UGLY, STRUNG OUT BITCH!!!!"

I'm not telling the right people. I'm not telling the people who actually care about me. And I'm obviously doing that on purpose.


Hey, when is the lawyer gonna call?