Just when you think the awesomeness that is Charlie Sheen can’t get any crazier, up pops a book of poetry (A Piece of Mind) written by the star in the early 90’s. Among the obvious revelations, Charlie likes drugs and Abraham Lincoln. But beneath the surface lies an open window from witch to gaze upon the star’s shattered soul. Come with us as we decipher the poetry of Charlie Sheen. Winning.
As he pulled his head,
From the drool stained pillow,
His eyes blood red,
His oxygen shallow.
(Translation: A typical Tuesday morning.)
Feet on carpet,
That pain to fight,
These are the effects,
Of another night.
(Translation: Last night, I did drugs and got a hooker.)
A night of drink,
A night of hate,
A night as dark,
As last nights date.
(Translation: The hooker was black.)
A look to the mirror,
No face of youth,
Self inflicted carnage,
A cracked and hollow tooth.
(Translation: The hooker hit me with a lamp.)
This punishment a vile choice,
So worthless, yet so bold.
Carving lines of disrespect,
This young lad growing old.
(Translation: Too many lines of coke have made me impotent.)
Yet masking truth and hiding pain,
Will surely take it’s toll,
Will he unto others, or to himself,
Remain a thoughtless soul?
(Translation: I wonder if I’ll always be a coked-up hooker frequenting asshole.)
Endive, undead, unbroken,
(Translation: Getting Married is for assholes.)
Relax, relate, rehab,
(Translation: I can cure my addictions with my mind.)
Pursue, persuade, persist,
Per-petuate [sic] your own death
By smiling a lot.
(Translation: I have tiger blood and Adonis DNA.)
Supply, succumb, deny — everything.
(Translation I am on a drug. It’s called Charlie Sheen. Also, I’m on coke and crystal…and quaaludes)
Turtle, android, pain.
Endeavor, endless, end.
(Translation: Turtles and Androids: SyFy must be running Blade Runner again.)
(Translation: I did coke with a Lithuanian soccer player.)
“Excuse me, aren’t you…?”
“Hey, you look just like…”
“Oh my God, that’s…”
“Sorry to interrupt your dinner, but aren’t you…”
“Look, I never do this, but, my wife thinks you’re…”
“My friend is so convinced that you’re…”
“I’m so embarrassed, but, aren’t you…?”
“I know you must be tired of this, but…”
(Translation: The little people who buy tickets to my movies and watch my shows, thereby supporting my outrageous coke habit and constant whoring, are really, really annoying.)
All eyes held in stare, all mouths locked open in shock, as he pulled the latex Charlie Sheen mask from his head, revealing the rotted skull of President Lincoln.
(Translation: I will free the world from the tyranny that is not winning. Also, Lincoln rules, but Jefferson was still a pussy.)