Okay, so, I had to turn in a poem by noon today, and I was fucking wasted last night and I couldn't come up with shit, and then I woke up today and checked to see what I'd e-mailed my professor and this is what it was. I was gonna e-mail a different one and ask that we workshop that one in class but then I checked the class's website and he'd already posted it to be workshopped tomorrow. I mean, I dunno, maybe it's not totally terrible, but I can't believe I submitted it. Alas!Truth Metaphors are for fucking pussies.
I can’t respect anyone
who can’t deal with the shank that is life
slamming into you as you try to eat breakfast
right between your third and fourth rib
Unless you’re in a good mood
then it stabs up into your nostril
past the cartilage and soft tissue
burning past thoughts and feelings
and tiny ruby drops of blood that slip down
A really nice metaphor is the best orgasm
that ever blew your mind while you were
getting drunk and getting high and cutting
yourself as you contemplated
how much you mattered to the universe
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