Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 28
Drive down the street can't find the keys to my own ******* home.
I'll take a walk so I could curse my *** for being dumb.
I'll make a right, after the arches, stinking grease and bone.
Stopped at the supermarket people stare like I'm a dog.

I'm going to Lukin's.
I've got a spot at Lukin's.
I knocked the door at Lukin's.
Open the fridge. Now I know life is worth.

I found the key but I return to find an open door.
Some ******* freak who claims I fathered, by ****, her own son.
I find my wife, I call the cops, this days work's never done.
The last I heard that freak was purchasing a ******* gun.
bob   fonia
Written by
bob fonia  46/M
(46/M)   
30
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems