in the arm pit, i find my stolen 60 bucks. 
there is no neutralism anymore, asshole.  i can�t just pretend i didn�t find it.  i can�t just pretend you robbed me blind while i was looking the other way.   how much did you steal?  what did you steal while i wasn�t watching?
(a lot of begging, a lot of promises, a lot of good memories and polaroid moments.  and then i�m out, my truck leaving a great cloud of dust and debris.)
it wasn�t just the money.  it wasn�t the dirty dishes and ashtray carpet.  it wasn�t the grimy, cat piss curtains or the moldy coffee cups spawning a generation of vegetation.  it wasn�t the constant springer and oprah and mtv.  it wasn�t boxed up fast food and sunday trips to discount stores.  it wasn�t just the countless nights i laid awake, wondering if there was ever a true moment of unity in our union. 
(and at the corner of the high way�s entrance, is my love, a sign that reads �You or Bust� in one hand and his thumb jerked out on the other.  i pull over and roll down my window.  he smiles slightly and leans towards me.)
�you never really believed, sitting on your high horse and waitin� with your mighty misconceptions and fairy-taling; this is what it means to be a man, whether you wanna believe it or not.  now i�m back, baby and i got things to say.  i�m not afraid anymore.  i got promises to make.  i got dreams to follow.  i got plans and a future.  i got lots to offer you if you just let yourself go.  this time it�s real.  this time, i�m real.  you have to believe in the real me.  it might not be pretty, it might not be tidy but it�ll be me, i promise.  just let me in, just let me come in and i�ll say it the way it truly is, just like i shoulda from the very start.  just let me
in.
armpit
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