To be fucked. To be fucked up to be fucked on, but never, never does he want to be fucked over. He wants to tell the girl on the bar stool that he calls the shots. He wants to tell her about that time— that time he thought he was going to die except when he tells her it will be that he believed he was going to become God.
He was fucked up then. You can’t take all that shit and not have something bad happen. The doctors told him he did it because he wanted to die. But Jimmy knows better. He did it because he wanted to live, in a bigger place, in a wider place, in a place where the girls came to him, where they beckoned him with their angel wings, where they straddled him on a cloud.
He stares at the girl on the bar stool, at the crack of her ass. He wants to be the only one she looks at on her way out the door. He wants her to straddle her Harley FatBoy, flip her long red hair over one shoulder then crook her finger in his direction and beckon.
He was fucked up then. You can’t take all that shit and not have something bad happen. The doctors told him he did it because he wanted to die. But Jimmy knows better. He did it because he wanted to live, in a bigger place, in a wider place, in a place where the girls came to him, where they beckoned him with their angel wings, where they straddled him on a cloud.
He stares at the girl on the bar stool, at the crack of her ass. He wants to be the only one she looks at on her way out the door. He wants her to straddle her Harley FatBoy, flip her long red hair over one shoulder then crook her finger in his direction and beckon.