my jeans

blood, piss and cum,
vodka, whiskey and rum.
human grease and bits of food,
grease and oil, very crude
my jeans have become.
things in my jeans, some
times comes out in the wash.
other times the paryt is just a memory.
a torn cuff,
the waiste gettting rough,
a stain, or spot of bleach
sand in my pocket from the beach
my jeans.
they clothe me,
protect me,
save me,
comfort me,
hold my things and my body.
bloody, bruised and broken.
happy, sad and spoken,
they tell the life i live.
human grease, blood and rum.
axle grease and cum.
today is wash day.
stains wash away,
memories fade.
scars heal.
glory last forever.