Tuesday, May 25, 2010

my moments are a string of piss stained empty cups

moments
offer
themselves

string
after
string
of
chances

empty
cups
to
fill
to
the
brim
w/
yr
soul
juices

i
attempt
to
piss
in
them
as
pass
me

i
know
better

in
the
end
something
turns
them
face
down
anyway

the
juices
of
the
soul
seeping
back
in
the
skin
of
the
planet
This blog is updated irregularly and has nothing to do with the poet's output. The poet is actually disturbingly prolific. He writes about 5 poems per day. The pages are everywhere, even stacked in the bathtub.

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