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robert-poff
On a cold night I drive around With my windows cracked Smoking cigarettes And tossing keystones Out the window. I drive around The dead end neighborhoods Tossing keystones Out the window Wondering why there’s nothing Better to do. Sure I could get laid Cause a girl asked me over. Sure I could go see a friend And talk about how little I want, Or I could try to laugh a little. But tonight there’s no point To any of that. Driving around In the cold Getting drunk Is the only thing That makes any sense. Soon I’ll head home And go to sleep. Tomorrow might be different Like tonight might have been If I cared about all those things That seem to keep Everyone else going.
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Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 2:34 PM UTC
Cold night
People always seem so stable When you drive by And don’t know their names. They are just people With their eyes forward on the road. I wonder how many of them Are drunk as I am On this 230 pm road Thinking about why she left And why she came back, Knowing it will happen again Because neither of us care enough. Some of these people must be dealing With madness. Some of them must have life in them. Some so much so that they are driving home, Or somewhere far away, Right now To put a bullet in their brains.
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Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 2:33 PM UTC
230 pm
A few years ago I loved a woman so helplessly That I probably still do. I’ve never known a woman with such a hard life, But she tried to make the most of it So the bugs wouldn’t crawl Under her skin again. Her first daughter was eight And would talk to people We couldn’t see. She was awkward but intelligent And would read science books for fun. In her early years she’d cry in the cold Held by her mother Who held a cardboard sign That asked for money. Her second daughter was four And was the most lovable child Despite her manic energy And endless tantrums. She had a rosey smile That wanted to love everyone And be loved by everyone And I imagine she will be betrayed Quite a lot in her life. Because of these two, And because of herself, Her small apartment was always ***** Dishes piling out of the sink onto the counter, Toys, dolls, markers, drawings, books, blankets, crumbs All over the place surrounded by at least a hundred articles of clothing On any given day. Small flies would gather around the center of the room And fly in a tight circle. Everyday she would be cleaning And it never looked much different. Most of the time I spent with her Was spent cleaning up the apartment. The rest of the time was spent in bed. Those were some of the best times of my life. She was the most critical person I have ever met But never believed she was asking for much. She expected people to always treat each other well And would go broken hearted mad when they inevitably didn’t. She felt the same way about me As I did about myself at the time: She loved me completely But couldn’t appreciate any of it For very long Because it didn’t make sense Why I’d destroyed myself. I don’t know how’s she’s doing now, But I’m sure she’s still fighting The good fight And losing horribly. The saints spend everyday cleaning. It never looks much different, But they spend everyday cleaning.
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Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 2:31 PM UTC
Cleaning
A few years ago I loved a woman so helplessly That I probably still do. I’ve never known a woman with such a hard life, But she tried to make the most of it So the bugs wouldn’t crawl Under her skin again. Her first daughter was eight And would talk to people We couldn’t see. She was awkward but intelligent And would read science books for fun. In her early years she’d cry in the cold Held by her mother Who held a cardboard sign That asked for money. Her second daughter was four And was the most lovable child Despite her manic energy And endless tantrums. She had a rosey smile That wanted to love everyone And be loved by everyone And I imagine she will be betrayed Quite a lot in her life. Because of these two, And because of herself, Her small apartment was always ***** Dishes piling out of the sink onto the counter, Toys, dolls, markers, drawings, books, blankets, crumbs All over the place surrounded by at least a hundred articles of clothing On any given day. Small flies would gather around the center of the room And fly in a tight circle. Everyday she would be cleaning And it never looked much different. Most of the time I spent with her Was spent cleaning up the apartment. The rest of the time was spent in bed. Those were some of the best times of my life. She was the most critical person I have ever met But never believed she was asking for much. She expected people to always treat each other well And would go broken hearted mad when they inevitably didn’t. She felt the same way about me As I did about myself at the time: She loved me completely But couldn’t appreciate any of it For very long Because it didn’t make sense Why I’d destroyed myself. I don’t know how’s she’s doing now, But I’m sure she’s still fighting The good fight And losing horribly. The saints spend everyday cleaning. It never looks much different, But they spend everyday cleaning.
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58
When her kid was eight months old She put her in a baby swing and hid her in a closet Down the hall at her parents place. Then she went to the barn out back, Which had a chain locked door that slid ten feet across, And in there he was in the throes of a manic fit, Walking in and out through the cold October night, Eyes all pupil and mind untraceable. He kept saying “I’ll **** you! I’ll ******* **** all of you!” And eventually she realized she couldn’t calm him down So she hid in a locked room inside the house And waited for the cops to come. When I asked her why she didn’t charge him For attempted ****** and only gave him three months for domestic dispute She said, so drunk it came out in a rage, “Because I’m stupid and I’m loyal! It’s one of those things where, after, you don’t know why you did it, But had to at the time. Soon I’ll be somewhere where the weathers always nice. I can’t tell you where. Witness protection and all that. But now I’ve got a life ahead of me looking over my shoulder.” “Well as long as he doesn’t know where you went he won’t be able to find you.” She didn’t seem to hear me and continued on. “I wrote him a letter. I want him to sit with it. Our daughters autistic cause of what he did When I was eight months pregnant. I have the diagnostics from three doctors. I didn’t want to believe it. His dad won’t tell him, But I want him to see it. I want him to see with it. He deserves to sit with it. That’s why I’m so ****** up right now. I’m leaving Tuesday. Jocelyn won’t be Jocelyn anymore. We have to change our names. Nothing will be the same anymore.”
0
Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 2:27 PM UTC
At the bar
When her kid was eight months old She put her in a baby swing and hid her in a closet Down the hall at her parents place. Then she went to the barn out back, Which had a chain locked door that slid ten feet across, And in there he was in the throes of a manic fit, Walking in and out through the cold October night, Eyes all pupil and mind untraceable. He kept saying “I’ll **** you! I’ll ******* **** all of you!” And eventually she realized she couldn’t calm him down So she hid in a locked room inside the house And waited for the cops to come. When I asked her why she didn’t charge him For attempted ****** and only gave him three months for domestic dispute She said, so drunk it came out in a rage, “Because I’m stupid and I’m loyal! It’s one of those things where, after, you don’t know why you did it, But had to at the time. Soon I’ll be somewhere where the weathers always nice. I can’t tell you where. Witness protection and all that. But now I’ve got a life ahead of me looking over my shoulder.” “Well as long as he doesn’t know where you went he won’t be able to find you.” She didn’t seem to hear me and continued on. “I wrote him a letter. I want him to sit with it. Our daughters autistic cause of what he did When I was eight months pregnant. I have the diagnostics from three doctors. I didn’t want to believe it. His dad won’t tell him, But I want him to see it. I want him to see with it. He deserves to sit with it. That’s why I’m so ****** up right now. I’m leaving Tuesday. Jocelyn won’t be Jocelyn anymore. We have to change our names. Nothing will be the same anymore.”
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39
For a long time I’ve had no women to love. Now I have two And they hate each other Without knowing each other. I go back and forth between the two. It is how nearly all my time has been spent lately. There’s not even as much *** as you might imagine. It starts off with something like, “Where are you coming from?” Or, “How has your night been?” those types of questions loaded with assumptions. I’m not a liar. I always tell them. Then I spend a few hours soothing their insecurities, Letting them know how much they mean to me And assuring them that this other thing Doesn’t change that. Then we get to the ******* Assuming I’m not drunk past the point of staying hard, Which, by that time, I usually am. It’s a pain in the *** Even when it’s just one girl Love is a pain in the *** But like this, with all the jealousy, It is much more complicated; There is much less *** And far more quelling. It’s funny, I go years without it without a problem, Then I get it so much that I hardly have it at all. Life’s full of little ironies like that. I imagine they get the most difficult to deal with when you can’t laugh about them. And I am laughing, Manically.
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Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 5:29 PM UTC
Staying busy
I am sick today, So sick that I feel I haven’t been right in the head For a long time. All I had to eat yesterday was oatmeal That made me want to ***** Then I drank malt liquor. I still had some of my 40oz When I left my friends apartment But I didn’t even want to finish it. I took one last drink And threw the bottle out my window As I drove out the parking lot. This morning I took my dog to the vet; He’s just had surgery and needed a check up. Shortly after I started driving He fell awkwardly against the side of the car, ******** himself, Rubbing it into himself and the car In the process, So I pulled over, Lifted him out of it, And laid him down on the opposite side of the car. He looked at me the whole time, Seeming confused, Asking about his agony. At the vet he needed to be carried in. Inside, I laid him on the floor in front of me Where he trembled in pain. The news played And the women laughed with each other Like it was scripted And like they didn’t Know how to act. Something was asking to leave my gut, Either out of my *** or mouth It didn’t care, But there were no bathrooms So I sat on the wood bench Listening to small dogs yapping down the hallway And the receptionist returning missed calls With a rehearsed cadence, lilt, and message, And started sweating. I called in sick to work. The wound reopened And now he needs another surgery. As the veterinarian explains this to me He seems dejected But still recommends further surgery. I hope my mom will have heart enough to **** him And not keep the kind of hope That merely prolongs suffering. I don’t want to hear more Of anything in the world right now. I want to sit on my couch And wait out my sickness. On the way home, While stopped at a red light, An old women rear ended me slightly, Although enough to make the old boy Try to stand up in a fright. I look in the rear view mirror and she seems not to notice So I pretend I didn’t either And drive home To clean up the **** In my backseat.
0
Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 5:17 PM UTC
Sick
I am sick today, So sick that I feel I haven’t been right in the head For a long time. All I had to eat yesterday was oatmeal That made me want to ***** Then I drank malt liquor. I still had some of my 40oz When I left my friends apartment But I didn’t even want to finish it. I took one last drink And threw the bottle out my window As I drove out the parking lot. This morning I took my dog to the vet; He’s just had surgery and needed a check up. Shortly after I started driving He fell awkwardly against the side of the car, ******** himself, Rubbing it into himself and the car In the process, So I pulled over, Lifted him out of it, And laid him down on the opposite side of the car. He looked at me the whole time, Seeming confused, Asking about his agony. At the vet he needed to be carried in. Inside, I laid him on the floor in front of me Where he trembled in pain. The news played And the women laughed with each other Like it was scripted And like they didn’t Know how to act. Something was asking to leave my gut, Either out of my *** or mouth It didn’t care, But there were no bathrooms So I sat on the wood bench Listening to small dogs yapping down the hallway And the receptionist returning missed calls With a rehearsed cadence, lilt, and message, And started sweating. I called in sick to work. The wound reopened And now he needs another surgery. As the veterinarian explains this to me He seems dejected But still recommends further surgery. I hope my mom will have heart enough to **** him And not keep the kind of hope That merely prolongs suffering. I don’t want to hear more Of anything in the world right now. I want to sit on my couch And wait out my sickness. On the way home, While stopped at a red light, An old women rear ended me slightly, Although enough to make the old boy Try to stand up in a fright. I look in the rear view mirror and she seems not to notice So I pretend I didn’t either And drive home To clean up the **** In my backseat.
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65
Alright, you're white, throw a pawn on down the field. Let our motionless armies slowly rage forward upon each other. Let the weight of their steps bruise our minds. Let the clash of sword and shield pierce our ears with their incessant harangue. Let a hundred pieces fall and let half haunt as phantom death upon what still lives. Let the ****** cries come from the depths we toss them in vie without rout, in our loveless relationship! Every move is certain disaster! Let the hours drag for years without rest. Let our perineal battle wear us down until we have lost **** near all. Then I will let you toss the last spear, rip the last vessel from my heart, exultant, with that awful face of yours.
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Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 5:45 PM UTC
Chess with God (Zugszwang)
There are some days where I am the most boring person I’ve ever known. I wake up sick, after drinking until late in the morning, And all that goes through my brain is the amount of money I lost gambling the night before; Just the figures, What I lost to whom, Over and over again. Then I lay around my moms house Watching dumb videos on YouTube Just to be doing something. It is a horrible way to spend your time And I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone. For the last hour new thoughts have come into my head. I’ve been thinking about when I should drink my first beer. I know I should at least do something first, Anything productive, But I don’t. I need to get new shoes, Soap, shaving cream, and toothpaste But I don’t. I don’t even brush my teeth. And I think about that, And how the restaurant I work at has been closed for plumbing For the last 4 days And I’ll I’ve done is drink And gamble. I think about how this is no way to take care of myself - I would never do this to someone else - Yet here I am And I don’t care. So I pour myself a beer And the taste in my mouth alone Starts relieving the sickness in my gut And adds a little levity to my brain, Allowing me to write this.
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Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 11:51 PM UTC
Boring
I took my morning shots of whisky and then got in a friends car and went to work at the factory. We pulled in on all the lose gravel with its familiar sound and I hopped out into the cold seeing my breath. A co-worker was outside smoking his vape before work, a healthy hippy type. I stopped by him for a moment as he looked at the sky and he said, "You see that? It'll never be like that again." The clouds were thick like they are after rain and the morning sun made them special as a few birds flew by and I said, "Yea it's wonderful out there like that, each day is new." Then I went inside and got to work packaging hummus.
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Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 8:21 PM UTC
Monotony
The moths all gather and dance around the bright lights While the owls hoot mournfully somewhere in the distant dark, And through it all The flowers bloom.
0
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 1:19 PM UTC
Untitled