Poetry

What I’m Writing Right Now

The snowfall descends with the grace of 1,000 men

I went to the dollar store to a buy a notebook
And a ballpoint pen

I use the edge of my bed as a desk and begin

So I’m sitting on the floor pretty much

I can write a small scene describing murderous ducks
Ferocious zombie ducks that can drive pickup trucks
And their beaks they sharpen against a rock
And when they peck they leave a gash
Then splash their wings on you to smother you
Other ducks come around and hover too
Then when the humans turn to zombies they follow the ducks
The flock of ducks

Or Fuck.

I can write about a slouch who runs the world from his couch
He orders orange chicken everyday and makes dildos out of Play
Doh. Or Oh! I can write about hmm…what else can I write about?

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Poetry

Hard-Earned Relaxation

But back to chill mode
The glass ceiling is so low
I shattered it a long time ago
I’m smoking purple haze
You heard of the strain?
I like to hear the sound of water as it goes down the drain
Melodic, hypnotic. While you listen to tunes robotic
Memory episodic. I’m jottin’ you rotting
Dotting the lotting
Nothing left to do
But burn this blunt and fantasize sexually
About the girl at the casino
Who just a few hours ago was in the car next to me
(I drove her home)

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