Wednesday, January 11, 2012

for all I'm sure of is that literature is in the wrong hands

Don't be surprised when you're
kicked in the face, the acceptance letters
are as torturous to read as the rejections,
the stamped letters or the replies
are as much junk as the shit I sent to
them four months ago,

who'd wanna read


written by anyone?

I drink a glass of water
wishing it was milk, alone in
the dark, with the shutters down
it could be morning

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