so it's true
there is a world out there
in which the rich are
inferior to the poor

and there's a woman, more
beautiful than any, desired,
waited upon, a woman to
die for, a woman who only
comes to the dead and sometimes
to the poor and the miserable
and rarely, almost never to the rich,
to the well-being, to those with
full bellies and pockets and
no worry of the morrow

strange tastes she has

above all
she loves madness
the mad never have to search for
her. It is her who hunts them
and unless they grow sober
and sane she never leaves

she goes by many names
and no name at all
and a name this second and
another the next
But names don't matter
she only cares about making love
and you'd better not wash yourself
before getting in bed with her,
don't chase the stingy smell
of hot spirits from your breath
don't clean your teeth or the
***** stains from your shirt
or the sweat
If your stomach keeps turning
around empty, void and
if your guts could make a little
music while you're at it, it's
even better. She loves this type of music
And if you still wanna take a step further
have your body covered in wounds
and rashes and some broken
bones where possible, a swollen
eye, a bent nose, a chewed off ear,
enough scars, missing teeth, and
oh, boy, she's yours

"Name me, lover boy!"

I call her simply The Muse

What about you?

R.I.P
my name below in
The Bookman Old Style font
And then
"He Never Stopped Writing"

Really, to have this engraved on my
tombstone feels more important than
all other goals and wishes
more important than buying a house or
starting a family or a business,
going on a trip around the world,
winning the lottery, having real friends,
building... Ah, but what am I talking about?
Forgive me, I am drunk
and when I am drunk I crawl
under the skin
of some character that's not me

those aren't my goals and
wishes
me, I want to have "He never stopped
writing" engraved on my tombstone
more than I wish I was the only
human being left on planet Earth.
And that is really something,
believe me
Not to be at all is better than
to be and to love it, love that you are
and...
Hold on, there's a character here
who doesn't agree with me
Shame, just when I thought I was
done killing them

"He never stopped disagreeing
with his
creator"

R.I.P

Um... it doesn't rhyme,
she said

I looked at her
You kidding?

And then she shook her head
No, look, this poem
really has no rhymes
at all
You sure it's the right file?

Let me see

She handed me her phone
and I looked at the text
on the screen, smirked, turned off
the phone and kissed her

You are truly the cutest, I said.

If you wanna be a writer
Write

If you wanna be a good one
don't get yourself a cozy, comfy,
warm, clean studio. Just don't.
It won't help you, it'll do the opposite.

If you wanna be a great one
be a wanderer, do more living than
writing, break rules and laws and
glasses and bottles and heads and
lots of hearts

If you wanna be an outstanding one
break yourself

If you wanna be godlike
join the gods
There's a shotgun in the corner

A sewage cleaner
that's what the happy man was
but it was not why he was happy

they said his fiance
announced she was pregnant
and she probably was his
fiance because she was pregnant

and she moved in with him
in his bachelor apartment
and were living quite crammed and
she didn't go out much so
they couldn't tell if she was
as happy as him

the reason he was the talk of the office
was the resignation letter he submitted
in the morning
No one even knew his name before that
and no one noticed he was happy
and no one will see him ever again
but they
will remember him
and his
happy face
and will gossip and make
up stories about him


It's there even a doubt? they'll say
That child's not his, man.
Just more proof that women can
get what they want without working
She got pregnant by someone who
didn't want her and found
this fool, moved in with him
and profits. That simple, yeah.

I heard he ***** her while
drunk

He used drugs as well,
I mean, that happy face... uh...

To tell you the truth, she's
mentally ill, the wife to be. That condition...
it makes you think with an eight year old's
mind even though you're an adult.

Retardation?

Yeah, an' you can guess how she got pregnant
with him.

Gods, what a despicable individual. And to think
that we worked in the same place with him.
All this time and had no idea.

Yeah, I heard that she's ******* but not only
Guess what, she's a blood relative of him,
some cousin. I don't know how the hell
but she got in his care and... Look what's
happened now. Crazy.

No, no, guys, seriously now. The devil's not
as dark as y'all point out now. She's not
******* or a blood relative
to him. Just the one
******* with whom the
****** happened
to break. These things happen,
it's nothing to laugh about. Now she pretty
much owns him, I guess.
For the next few months at least.

Surely you mean years
I think she actually scammed him

Yeah, it's a common thing with
'em ******. When they feel like going on
a vacation they get pregnant and sue some
fool for child support and go all semi queens
'n ****.
the ****** doesn't have to break
they just have to keep it afterwards
and put the stuff inside.
So take heed, gentlemen. Always be
flushing your used condoms down
the toilet if you want to avoid
the ultimate misery. Throwing
'em in the trash bin is not enough anymore

Oh, ****, that's hella good advice, man
Wonder why we don't see more of
them used condoms in the sewers we clean

****, that stands to prove that the
world is full of men who don't
raise their own children

How?

You shut up, new guy! Get back to work now.
Jesus, the nerve of this rookie...

Well, I am audacious enough to
call myself
a writer
so I'll say it, I'll introduce him,
my greatest character so far
He doesn't appear in my writings
much, but he does appear often enough,
too often actually, in my thoughts
He appears every time I cross
the living room and glance at the TV
and see a commercial
This character of mine, he wears a black
mask like that of a hangman and
he sneaks behind happy people in
commercials and just before they're
about to open their mouths and
deliver their happy lines he passes
a cord over their heads and violently
strangles them and I see them
thrashing about and chocking and
panicking and the commercials become
bearable once more
Thanks hangman, you are
a beloved character

"You don't know how to write a love
poem," she said. "You couldn't
write one to save your life...
or your marriage."

"I'm not married," I said.

Apparently it was the
wrong thing
to say.

She left.

and I
returned
to my
desk

and wrote
something
that was
not a love
poem.