Blue purple and black.
Surrealist take on the winter months.
As with most things, this was feebly composed after work. I thought it was a funny concept, don't be too offended, it's just a joke.
by William Bann
Billy was a very cynical child.
His mom was a bitch, and he liked to run wild.
Later in life, when he moved up in school,
he was still too sarcastic, and just such a tool.
He didn’t own a car, and couldn’t ride a bike,
the winters were frigid, and he’d look like a dyke.
So he walked and he walked, once, twice, all fucking day.
And when he got home, it was all work and no play.
Late one dark evening, as he was walking,
he saw the dogs of his neighbors, and their owners all gawking.
There was just one dog, taking a shit in the road,
and Billy’s hatred for dogs began with that lode.
He made it his task, his errand of life,
to be a dick to dog-walkers, “Just fucking scoop!",
as they gazed with scorn, down at the poop.
It wasn’t the brown, that made Billy frown,
for it was so obvious and frozen, straight to the ground,
it was easy to see, and there were other ways around.
But the pee in his path was his true vexation,
and were he a sorcerer, he would utter damnation,
and torch the whole place, of its yellow abomination.
As I said he was wild, and loved to get wasted,
so out he would go on the weekends to chase it.
On seldom an occasion, would he remember,
the events that took place past midnight that December,
but he’d always wake up in the exact same place,
apparently able to get home on the path,
he’d get up to the sink and wash his face,
just assumed it was skill, not a thought of aftermath.
So out one day, on the path as his custom,
he was beating his palms and grinding his teeth,
he saw the thin yellow holes on the bright white sheet,
yelling for all, “FUCK I HATE PEE!”
And on the next morning, as he went to class,
he was jolted awake, by how cold was his ass?
He pulled up his pants, what were the chances?!
He’d been peeing here all year, and just hadn’t known,
in a moment of terror, he thought to run home.
But as it goes, he froze there to die,
for a hypocrite can't hide, with a still-unzipped-fly.