Watch Dogs

The bulldog in his breath. One more night. That's all I ask. One more night to hold in the piss until every word is a crisis. One more night to tell the truth with a fire hose of lies. This corrupt encyclopedia of skin debating humanity.

There in the scrutiny of Fridays and Saturdays the timepiece stops. The final gasp of tomorrow had. A puddle in the rain burping out its listless sobs. With my tongue I measure my lips. Sick with kisses I can't name.

With my mind I weigh my head against the words. Pierced balloon at the back of my throat. Channeling the potent excess of so many years wondering what life is. The truth is rife with victims. When will I be one again?

The leash is long enough, but the collar's too tight.