a rough night

self-loathing.

i got into a bar fight
this evening.
i bled more than
a watercolor painting.

you should see the other guy,
ha ha.

when i got home i
chucked pretty little mirrors
into the streets
from my window
and cursed my reflections
as they broke like
teardrops
onto the highway.

i will never be beautiful
again.

Reviews

[Ben Taylor]

I really enjoy your lack of capitalization--it has become like a signature thing for you.
"i bled more than
a watercolor painting."
How do you think of these things?
Interestingly enough, at almost the same time you posted this, I also posted a short story about self-loathing.
I simply thought that was worth noting since we both published simultaneous wrist-slitting related pieces earlier.
Wowzies.

[Kenneth The Poet]

Fantastic, you have a way with descriptive prose.