100% is
the chance that none of my poetry will ever be published in the Ivory Tower
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I know I’m not a starving African, Indian (dots not feathers!) or displaced refugee from 10 countries I probably can’t even name. I know my mudhouse wasn’t pummeled by a tsunami, and that I don’t have to fear being blown up every time I ride the 2c. I have, in almost every way, the easiest life imaginable. But try as I might to be perspective, none of that changes the fact that, when I open my British Lit 1 book and read the first 3 words of my assigned text, I immediately want sit on a running chainsaw while biting into a hand grenade.
ZHHHOoom. My lower half is sliced in parts as I sit upon the spinning chain of freedom.
The only thing harder than biting into this hand grenade?
My dick while I’m doing it.
Kaboom. My bloody matter splatters the wall.
2 miles to the east a girl smiles at a text message. It was from a guy. “I had a good time last night” it says.
2 miles to the north Jake just got a steal, but fucked up and missed the layup.
9.1 miles to the south Orenthal masturbates with his right hand to missionary style porn.
And 1.01 miles to the west sally writes a poem about love. It has descriptions of nature in it.
Gone and absolutely forgotten, Jeff wakes up with a pair of white wings, fire blazing around him in every direction.
“lol, this isn’t heaven.”
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I know I’m not a starving African, Indian (dots not feathers!) or displaced refugee from 10 countries I probably can’t even name. I know my mudhouse wasn’t pummeled by a tsunami, and that I don’t have to fear being blown up every time I ride the 2c. I have, in almost every way, the easiest life imaginable. But try as I might to be perspective, none of that changes the fact that, when I open my British Lit 1 book and read the first 3 words of my assigned text, I immediately want sit on a running chainsaw while biting into a hand grenade.
ZHHHOoom. My lower half is sliced in parts as I sit upon the spinning chain of freedom.
The only thing harder than biting into this hand grenade?
My dick while I’m doing it.
Kaboom. My bloody matter splatters the wall.
2 miles to the east a girl smiles at a text message. It was from a guy. “I had a good time last night” it says.
2 miles to the north Jake just got a steal, but fucked up and missed the layup.
9.1 miles to the south Orenthal masturbates with his right hand to missionary style porn.
And 1.01 miles to the west sally writes a poem about love. It has descriptions of nature in it.
Gone and absolutely forgotten, Jeff wakes up with a pair of white wings, fire blazing around him in every direction.
“lol, this isn’t heaven.”