A Hole Punched in a Motel Room Wall

been a minute since i wrote ya workin’ full time will do that to ya every second of every day is accounted for except the twelve minutes and fifty seconds i spent in a motel room with a hole punched in the wall what was it called? I haven’t stopped thinking about it in a good long while. the tannins in this wine have just a little more bite like i’m under the ringing in my ears got-up-a-little-too-fast dizzy spell a mix of adrenaline and fear if i can stretch what’s in my fridge until Friday after next, when, in theory, they deposit my paycheck I could probably buy a nice cut of meat for us to share while we watch …whatever’s on the TV Amazing grace, the sound’s not sweet it’s kind of stuck between my teeth ain’t no one saving any wretches on my watch if I wanted to live in a cheesy postcard with famous landmarks, don’t you respect me enough to know that … I would. been a minute since I wrote ya bein’ out of work will do that to ya I heard your youngest passed away that now he’s playing for the saints I hope my eldest don’t go the same way. Remember the motel I wrote about the one with the hole punched in the wall and tacky antler coat rack? I found the name written on the back of, you won’t believe this, a touristy post card When I say I laughed… Oh, I threw that right into the trash. Who needs that? Yeah, you heard right, Jack had a double bypass can’t even raise a fork with his right hand. no longer plays catch with our son and stopped writing me those dumb love poems but Jess, he’s trying. We both fucked this up but Jess, He needs me. And I guess I need him too, the dumb lug.