Freezing Moon* by the stereo
and as a bed poet
I'm takin' a ****.
Did you know about that guy
who slit his wrist… on this? she says.
No; Martha, Jessica, Julia: but still…
Here, alone, with the MacBook Air
- or was it Pro? Nevertheless,
an useless tool for worthless ****.
****, Pr0n, Pony - *******.
Here, alone, I and only I writes with the capital I.
And after the **** has gone
it feeds the air with oriental glams of leprosy:
and after a long working day I am not afraid,
watching its face, as I'm flushing it in the toilet
just like all the *******' poetries @ Home-Poetry.
Somebody cut his ***** off staring at ******-rooms;
but he didn't die
in fact
he's a doctor.
