Thursday, July 5, 2012


The table behind me laughed,
in unison.
it was nice -
hearing people,
even just for a few seconds,
not hurt.


how many whiskeys before i realize
i'm really no good at this thing.

i mean, everything.
i guess what i should say is: this life.

i don't wash my hands enough. i'm wasteful and petty.
i seriously think i'm pretty. honestly. probably prettier than you.
i'm letting my mom grow older without me
(what gratitude).
i sleep too much and complain;
talk badly about co-workers.

i will leave no legacy. a mediocre existence
and bad jokes.

and this poem,
it's shaping up to be all about me -

what a selfish bitch.