Sunday, March 13, 2011

MORNING AFTER


your greatest fear speaks in the comical broken language of a friendly brown islander
wears blazer and Oxford Dictionary Sadface – its internal monologues in sweatpants, occasionally barging out of the room unprovoked, self-satisfied

dyslexic Radio auto-erotic auto-tune  

hunched on the bed, whiskey breath, after awakening
beside bloody chopsticks – literally the last words of the murdered ukulele
with grandmother’s embroidered placemat for a condom

5 comments:

  1. This one, it is very dark, I think.

    (wv: warkers)

    ReplyDelete
  2. well, it was written after taking a nap in which i dreamed i couldn't talk. so, yeah, pretty dark

    ReplyDelete
  3. the embroidered grandma condom here is a verbal prophylaxis

    ReplyDelete
  4. I have never dreamed I could not talk.

    ReplyDelete

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