in clubs and venues,
in which some of the best emerging
and established artists
get to go up and perform
whatever the hell they want.
I am one.
Life is for living
and scarring your body,
and scaring yourself good
until you are good.
Just two.
Nights ago
I was with Nick in New Orleans,
chasing girls, drinking shit sugar,
and doing drugs and getting in fights,
but here I am back home
bombing a standup set
just for fun.
See ya in three.
In Florida,
where we will fuck
and forget we hate each other
and our tastes in music.
Stay up to four.
Be my blanket
and cover the night
when the time is right
and we are fighting
loudly on the train,
wishing we both could quit.
Five in time.
fire in the eye of the cop neighbor
that hates me and hates my bloody tampon art
that I leave in his garbage cans
when I am coming home from the bar.
Six sucks.
My belly bubbles on the couch
and I am alone
for the first morning
in forever.