There she goes again, weeping
Can't she see I'm trying to play Minecraft?

There she goes again, screaming
Banging her head into the floor
She's probably banging other men too

I said:
Maybe if you spent more time on dinner
You would have a healthy outlet
To distract you from these troublesome emotions
And there she goes again,
Weeping

old bananas sit brown
on my counter, rotting soft, candy corpses
i threw up my chicken
i just can't digest it
then my cat licked it up
i am surprised that
i am allowed to live

old bananas sit brown
on my counter, rotting
like soft, candy corpses

buying roses doesn't make it better
and your sweet songs sound familiar
similar to a dozen dying locusts

alas! you're trash;
you're simply ***
at fireboy and watergirl.

I counted meticulously each mark on your marred body
Realization: More freckles on your left hand than days we had left together.
Shedding tears: in the Japanese restaurant.
A couple of them fall into my Miso; you scold me.
I'm sorry.

Great, another Bukowski dickrider (me).
We get it, your substance abuse issues are your muse,
And you're very,
Very misunderstood.

My mother informed me
That Fireball the horse
Had passed on a temperate Fall night.
She'd waited to tell me
Till I'd finished my course,
And assured me things at home were alright.
We'd called him Fireball because his chestnut velvet
Glinted auburn in the morning sun,
And endowed with a massive pelvis,
He kicked hard as a hot son of a gun.

Fireball was just like Dad,
In that, if you, weary, had ever needed a lift,
They'd both have carried you on muscled backs.

Grief ridden in the big city, I grew ill.
A meddlesome misery settled unkindly
As I thought still of Fireball fondly.
Then a thought dawned upon me:
If Heaven's so mighty,
How will Fireball find me?