How to Write Alone

When there’s no place left to smoke

Your parents are dead, or should be

Every cell in your body seems to lack social worth and communal courtesy

A future heart attack needles at the inside of an artery, tapping for gaps

Your legs are numb from standing up to the world

You are pet-less, dumbfounded

Lost in a blank purple universe, devising newborn inky nebulas

Sucking licorice milk from oily, disturbing udders

When your gut can’t pretend to forget anymore

You want to pull grenade pin, stick the pineapple up your ass

And run for the Olympic peninsula like an ejaculating god

Rather than live and die like a pitiful moth in a puff

When your fingernails hurt

They smell like every shitty thing you’ve ever done

They will never truly be clean

Failed relationships

The succubus blonde

The succubae redheads

The brunette who just plain sucked

When steaming emotions pour slowly upon you like poached jellyfish

When you can actually hear the moon’s orgasm sighs

The sun singing

And planets grind like marbles in your mouth

When you can’t stop yourself from snapping at Harry, or someone like him

And it’s the 15th time you’ve promised yourself you’d move on gracefully

To let the rain assail your bare chest with hope that another day

Could be a better day

Despite history and common sense

Hunger, tickets, bills

Someone bitching at you for money

Walking around smellin’ sex everywhere

Pinch that pen

Take a swig of desperation, distilled

And carve your name onto paper