poem for December 1st
the photographs, the mementos, the little trinkets that love shits and leaves behind
inevitably meets a box or a fire
so why not these poems?
why don't we burn them and move on with our lives
there - it was written
it was performed
check my facebook profile, there's a picture of me reading it
thank you internet for making this picture unburnable because that shit
is posted from somebody else's account, what am I going to do, flag it?
moving is like a break up in a bad romantic comedy
it's been four months, and every word I ever said to Santa Cruz is still on my mind
she is gorgeous like an arm stretched transvestite making snow angels on a hospital bed
learning to swim again
and I miss her more than I have ever missed a lover or a family member
the longer I am away, the gladder I am that I left
on long nights, that doesn't mean my dick doesn't still get hard for Santa Cruz
inevitably meets a box or a fire
so why not these poems?
why don't we burn them and move on with our lives
there - it was written
it was performed
check my facebook profile, there's a picture of me reading it
thank you internet for making this picture unburnable because that shit
is posted from somebody else's account, what am I going to do, flag it?
moving is like a break up in a bad romantic comedy
it's been four months, and every word I ever said to Santa Cruz is still on my mind
she is gorgeous like an arm stretched transvestite making snow angels on a hospital bed
learning to swim again
and I miss her more than I have ever missed a lover or a family member
the longer I am away, the gladder I am that I left
on long nights, that doesn't mean my dick doesn't still get hard for Santa Cruz