heroin

No, it's not a glamorous title, it's literal.

I’m living in the middle of
The kitchen in an eighth
Of a night of
Smack and too many cigarettes
The laughing leech in love
Has come to eat his words
I contemplate this as
Mr. Pretentious spews that
I’m too good for him and
Miss Yes ma’am would rather not
Take sides of anything
And I say that’s fine
That no, really,
I’m okay.
(but I just make less of more more more)
And really, who knows me better
than my own bloodstream?
But at the moment
I want to make up for it
By weeping
And by begging
For something I didn’t really want
In the first place.
It seems to me that I
Am taking this in the wrong direction
When all I want to think about is
That maybe on a good day
Bukowski is my father
And my world just might
Be a single solitary atom
On someone’s a*****e.

Reviews

[C.A.B.S.]

I thought your word play was quite creative. I liked the movie puns. I did think the end could be done a little bit better but I like it when things end with the word a*****e. again, I thought the end left the poem a bit dry.