MarchMar 20 Tuesday 07
this poem may or may not pertain to you
the time has come for
half-drunken haircuts
and today's last cigarette,
(which incidentally
is the last in the pack)
and playing it off like
i don't give a shit
about you
or even anything.
for everything that's good
there's something
inevitably bad.
come on …
on electricity and my favorite gloves
it's been a long time
since i've tried writing words
as a means of making things well again.
the language of my heartache
seems so cliche.
i burn...
i ache...
i'd die...
the truth of the matter
is that the fault is my own.
when surprised by the pleasantry
of …