I’m not a love poem


a box of tissue

on my bed,


in hand,


fucked out

dead ~


thunder storms


my cravers cave


in cum-misery ~


no more late night

w/ Jay Leno

replaced by

narcissistic Friends,

’cause you called it quits,

I want to

slit my wrists,

lights out

at ten ~


in the morning,

anti~valium in my head,

decaf wine in one hand,

texting you w/ the other:


‘I never said I was a love poem’


hit send ~


it’s sunny outside

w/ rain

wilting roses.



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