Lazarus Man II

I'm sitting at a **** with her.
My wife I should clarify.
I'm explaining why our marriage is over (again).
It's not altogether complicated and does not take long.

I head downtown and see a buddy of mine in order to catch him up on the past month of my life which provides entertainment to the two girls sitting nearby who eagerly relish the insight into the male mind and someone else's crumbling personal life.

As I walk in a table of good looking, higher end girls stare me down.
I don't even fucking acknowledge them.
All I can see in my mind is her eyes looking up at me as I come in her mouth with my hand on the back of her head.
I realize that I am officially sprung on this girl.

Fast forward to I'm standing in a shitty bar with a buddy and some girls he knows.
The friends want me to bang one of the girls.
I don't even fucking acknowledge her.
This dumb whore from ****Euro country***** drones on and on and this fucking clown guy feeds her ego.
I could fucking beat him to death with a fucking black rubber dildo and laugh as his tears and blood pooled together on the ground.

I literally imagine killing both of them to shut them the fuck up. Unless provoked, I'm actually pretty fucking laid back. But these two people are worthless in every sense of the word.

I stare into the unforgiving and cold night sky and text her.
Like a fucking car crash, I awaken on the couch, it's 8am.
The Euro bitch is up and at em like she had a couple rails of cocaine.
No sense of convention b/c I'm sure guys her whole life have wanted that pussy she thinks is golden and tastes like pepsi cola and so she has no sense of propriety.

I smile inside as I imagine her as some hateful, mean, banged out whore with some limp dick husband or abusive alcoholic that berates her every day.

The douchebag guy I guess can tell I'm unenthused with both of them and makes a backhanded compliment to me.
I sit up slowly, don't even look at him, fucking laugh the laugh of you continue to exist b/c I fucking allow it, bro, and put on my sunglasses and fucking walk to my car rather than be around those wastes of corporeal matter.

The walk is good despite the cold. I stare into the cold morning sky and know that many more nights and mornings like this one lay in store.
I text her, start up the car, turn on the heat, and play She Wants Revenge.

This is what you are.
This is what you were always going to become.