that little prick writer

 

the daughter of the

woman that molested

me is getting married

today

 

despite my best efforts

to avoid this mind fuck

that little prick writer

inside of me can’t help

himself when it comes

to moments like these

 

yet he’s finding it quite

hard to scribble down

his genius

(his words not mine)

through the agony

and tears of just how

unfair life can be at

times

 

getting frustrated he

tosses the pen across

the room looking for

a cigarette

 

completely forgetting

that a decade has passed

since those days on the

porch

 

but the both of us

understand there is

a bottle or two with

our names on it

 

—————————————————————————————

a faint notion of sweetness

 

when i close my

eyes i imagine

you taste like

cotton candy

that’s gone

bad

 

there’s still a

faint notion of

sweetness

 

but the rest of

it simply chokes

the good out

 

not that i ever

complain

 

even in my

dreams

 

i understand

how lucky i am

to be getting any

at all

 

————————————————————————————————

fireworks in the rain

 

listening to some

asshole down the

road trying to light

fireworks in the rain

 

i secretly wish one

would blow off his

hand so i would get

some enjoyment

from his frustration

 

just another holiday

where i’m supposed

to buy something

 

and when i see those

flocks standing around

to see the lights in the

sky

 

i can’t help but laugh

and think i’m the only

fucker around that

understands what

independence means

 

————————————————————————————————-

slinking off into the shadows

 

i was never able

to take a bite out

of your neon soul

 

one of those great

regrets i’ll have

until the day i die

 

and the problem

with slinking off

into the shadows

are the demons

constantly make

you live that failure

over and over again

 

it would drive a

better man to

suicide

 

we’re long past

that stage now

 

a random bullet in

the classic case of

wrong place wrong

time seems much

more appropriate

now

 

————————————————————————————————————

a criminal on the run

 

i try to remain patient

anytime i’m in public

 

when the old women

force a smile upon

their face

 

as i imagine to them

i’m a criminal on the

run or someone who

is getting ready to

strike again

 

i usually just keep

my head down and

get whatever i came

to do done as quick

as possible

 

though i do

understand their

concerns when

they see the fat guy

with the weird facial

hair loading case

after case of beer

in a grocery cart

with a bad wheel

 

all while humming

psycho killer a little

louder than any human

can say is comfortable

 

 

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Comments
  1. Nice work….love the voice in all the poems…especially the second one.

BoySlut Comment

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