donate to ya boy

Monday, March 16, 2015


I write from a bathtub

On a handful of drugs

Listening to Boston.

My father used to chuckle

"I’m glad I never became a lush"

Just then the iPod shuffles to “plush”

This vanilla mint body scrub will set in lovely.

It’s like I’m crushed under bubbly…lost in vices

Way past advice & a ghost under city lights

I just want to write to Lawrence

Tell him I owe him this life

I know all he’s say is “shut up & write”

Make sure it’s poetic and makes people’s hearts die

Their mind twist

The words have to bite.

Poetry is an insurgent art

This is dedicated to harmony tonight

Maybe we’ll all find some peace in this life

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