PGW over the
income limits
full w/ a big belli
I, having the
obsessed notion
of an acrylic table
a bigger yard
than expected

a stanza distorted
by a cigarette
line a puff
sucking in of
bread acme
w/ Dan, not a great
or in his own words,
a fun shopping
companion.

What do I do I
just write write
write?
What am I doing
I just
lay down and
resolve not to
fight at all,
I just

lay flat on my back
and scream incessantly
and hear the
things that come
through --
       a foreign
        language.

Don't listen to me
Don't speak to me
Don't hold my hand
my shoulders sore
and weak
stretches and breaks

I gotta make calls
I gotta answer the
texts
I gotta take calls
I feel like a
wreck
I feel like a text
in a wreck
so many 'important'
things to do
I do it all I
grocery shop
walk home
just flop

Don't use someone else's
benefits Don't excuse
me 'got enough there'
nod head rapidly
fun times wax
I know all yr
friends I miss
a few times last night

Fran came w/ Madison
she was a cute girl
she looks like that girl
that needed rescuing
when she started
drinking again.

She pulls up, I wave her
in I say howya doing
she gives a cute smile
she has short hair
which I find cute
I place the AC in the
trunk and they drive off

I wear beb's blue slippers
outside/they took
a long time
I was nearing the end of
a cigarette
and thought man one
cigarette and still not
here/I try to finish
the depressing death of
Ivan Ilyich

the poor bastard can I
relate to him then
when he screams
he screams for three
days straight.