"she took pity on me horizontally, but most likely because of my band"

its just one of those days
not mondays or tuesdays or wednesdays
more like the "it depends" days.
I know that you depend on him
just cause it reminds me so much of how I depend on you.
then come the thurdays, fridays
and "it doesnt matter" days.
no, that's not right,
whatever "it" is, it sure as hell matters more than me.
hemingway's most famous work is his shortest novel
but by far the most poignant, and a fantastic way to end his career
because it was just a few years later that he put a shotgun in his mouth
and pulled the trigger with his big toe.
in the book, an old, dirt poor fisherman gets lost at sea
only to realize he's made the biggest catch of his life.
but since he's so far out, by the time he gets back to shore
the sharks have eaten the fish to the bone.
I don't think I've ever connected with a person
in quite the way that that I relate to that old man.
but maybe I'm more of a tortured genius type
like the author himself.
cause people keep telling me that they like what I do
my twisted little sentences and my dry jokes
but I just feel like a hack, or some fucking charity case.
do I really look so self deprecated that I need your vapid, jejune and hackneyed compliments?
because I'm an arrogant prick about everything else in this so called life of mine
but when it comes to this lackluster creativity, I fall short.

I've got my big toe ready but california gun control is keeping me from my shotgun.