on blind dates with buccaneers

my intestinal dating services played matchmaker with my emotions.  satisfaction hooked up with disappointment; confusion met frustration; witless anaphoras and copyrighted irony held hands and laughed while nonsense stole individuality’s number and virginity.  vice felt up virtue in neutrality’s parking lot, but the night ended tragically when trust slept with beauty, stole her car, and evidently cheated on her with promiscuity the next morning.

i texted adultery asking how about we have a threesome with pity or maybe her twin sister, sympathy, but vanity eavesdropped our messages and whispered scandals to gossip.  rumor spread the flu, media caught the virus, disease alerted the press, now everyone knows about my affair with phantom banalities and cliche apostrophes.

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obsession haunted sanity; addiction stalked comfort.  i went to makeout parties with desire so i could call it the wrong name in bed.  names like “greed” and “need” and “forever” and “bullshit”.  jealousy smothered dignity with dishonor’s illegal anaesthetics, while cutthroat plagiarists kidnaped originality and sent greedy ransom notes to homeless strangers.  i lost perfection’s number or maybe I never had it in the first place.  and i should probably change my number, but misery would end up finding me anyway.

i like flirting with the intangible
and forwarding hope’s invitation
to pessimism so he can spike the
punch and knock excitement out.

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avarice raped charity,
lust contracted herpes
and gave it to chastity,
glut developed bulimia,
pride embarrassed humility,
sloth pulled an all-nighter
while wrath and envy slit
humanity’s tolerant throat.

the seven deadly sins hog my speed dial,
but my phonelines tangle and disconnect
so persistency and consistency teamed up
with my electrician to unscramble messes
scapegoat and irresponsibility made.  but I
don’t mind because blame took a vacation
to italy with modesty.  at least, according to
acedia and apathy, but faith is scattered today.

i blocked larceny from my contacts but forgot to delete fraud from my sim card, so now i receive crank calls at two am from loneliness.  my caller id has a mind of its own, and inebriated apparitions drunk dial more than unwanted signs in fbi buildings.  deception aborted monotone’s pregnant fiancee before they birthed disaster, but nefarious dreads anxiety as much as i wish i didn’t.

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luck loves misfortune, so he counterfeited conceit and told death to come back when he finished filing passports and paperwork.  vicious verb pirates sold me scams, and belief exchanged his ‘b’ for a ‘r’, only to end up pawning his ‘ref’ at disgust’s zebra thriftstore.  exaggeration bought shame’s ‘e’ and donated it to his hat, so he could proudly wear hate on his head.

acceptance introduced me to defeat, but gravity pulled the crooked residue of contentment out of my abstract ass.  expiation defiled purity, so i vandalized atonement with poetry's graffiti, but somewhere along the lines i forgot my purpose.  pointlessness bred with malfunction, and my intentions expired.  my horrible archer's aim is off by a longshot.

maybe what i really wanted was to recreate ghosts in the backseat of my wornout van.  maybe i don't even know what i want.  and maybe conclusions drove off the edge of the diving board and into an empty swimming pool.  and maybe the finish line is around here somewhere... maybe...