Poetry Archives Bio
September 1, 2010
11:40 AM
Blood

I've sliced my damn finger packing a bag
I'm about a hundred kilos and I look like a fag

My life is a shambles, but they tell me it's great
That I've been so clever and useful of late

My ex wouldn't touch me with a twenty-foot pole
(Let alone all the others who yours truly ignore)

My life is a series of fugues and depression,
Concession, confession, oppression, regression

I like to jerk off and treat women like dirt
I argue, I lie, I demand, and I hurt

I'm selfish and two-faced and (I must confess)
That Asian diarrhea left me about five kilos less

Into three other bags I've packed all my life
(Which apparently rhymes with "linoleum knife")

4:16 on the clock, and the time is quite fair
In a couple of hours I will be in the air

Where, while stroking my cock, I'll be thinking of
Why, for fuck's sakes, you still give me your love?