a poem the way
I do
is to first turn
your heart
inside out

then
go a day
or two
with no
sleep

thinking
of
optional words
and rhymes
until

you pull your
hair out
and don't
take a bite
of food

the whole
******* time
and smoke ten
packs of
cigarettes

waste the day
your apartment
all filled
up with
crumpled paper

and beer cans
and butts
and your answering
machine
full