Tenth Week

January 2

 

Lady of the night

Prowler of the streets

Prostitute that crosses the boulevard, goes down the avenue, and fades away down the alleyway;

You’re just surviving, in a cruel and odd world that doesn’t feel like it should treat women as equally as men, and yes, I’m going there.

How can I not go there, honestly?

I want to be with someone who doesn’t feel all too petty or cheaply talkative about stupid useless bullshit: I’m the bad guy, I don’t disagree with that, but I’d rather find someone who doesn’t mind the craziness.

Hopefully.

 

January 3, 2013

 

Writing a haiku

Right now

Nothing comes to mind.

 

January 4

 

The poetic bug keeps moving and moving

Life is neither good nor bad

The universe doesn’t give a shit

All I have is a keyboard, a bank account for porn and food,

And a limitless supply of used books.

What else is there to life if not fun and fornication and Dorito Loco Tacos

Or whatever the hell they’re called, don’t ask me.

What do I look like? Someone who knows shit? Someone in control?

Who am I kidding I don’t know what I’m talking about

Let alone what I’m gonna do when the opportunity comes:
Do I go for the same old song and dance of the last few thousand years

Or do I just decide to lose my mind and say hi to Gaga and Scully and Emma Stone and Johansson and whatever other woman that I think is fantastic

And just commit to a career of poetry for them?

Sounds stupid,

But I guess I’m stupid.

Oh well.

 

January 5, 2013

 

My neighbor next door

She can eat a dick

Why should evil senior citizens be “respected”? ]

Fuck that.

 

January 6, 2013

 

Am I an editor trying to be subjective with other works?

Or do most poems and stories fail to capture my interest?

Eh, when someone writes sappy love poems with sappy metaphors,

Then I won’t pretend to like it; I’m fucked when it comes to this literary magazine

Business.

Indeed.

(Or maybe I’ve never really gotten into my fellow wayward teenage writing chum-mates, or their styles….Possibilities are limited at this time, please come back at the next quarter-half-full moon, please and thank you.)

 

January 7, 2013

 

The past is dead, and that includes former love interests and female friends:

Eh, it’s scary to wake up one morning and realize three years have passed, and all you’ve done

Is waste time with some people, who just weren’t worth it after all.

But, you can’t change facts, and revisionist history is not my forte: I guess I’ll just live with myself, and learn to forget the rest, and remember the fun times, too.

Sappy cliché shit aside, at least we all had fun:

Isn’t that something? Right?

 

January 8

 

Another

Day

Another

Loss

Another

Day

Another

Gaga Marathon

Or Gillian Anderson

Whatever.

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