[Addict]

I struggle between sobbing and trying to light a cigarette. It’s fucking bad. I’ve got the toddler being told no face on, and in an essence that is exactly what I am. A child not getting their way. I look around the kitchen at the busted bottles littering the cheap linoleum. The cheap beer lake... Continue Reading →

A Folly Attempt At Correspondence

Dear God, I must apologize in advance For not getting baptized But I have never been comfortable Drowning Not even for thirty seconds To feel welcome in your presence I do have questions about things Like Internet, and Sex and whether you’ve got any favorite Reader’s Digest Or Sports Illustrated Whether you lounge or sit... Continue Reading →

Fine Point

My mother was a diabetic As a little boy I watched her pin prick her finger Morning, afternoon, and night, I asked her once, How? How can she take the pain, Three plus times a day? She smiled, The knowing, motherly smile Speaking softly of a world I was too young yet to understand Of... Continue Reading →

Pillow Thoughts

Meaningless thoughtsMindless, reallyA shallow nothingnessWintry static drudgeryNo more stream of consciousnessThan drunken dribbles of pissI am not the scarecrowbegging if only for a brainI have this rotting pink,pustule covered massempty of anything meaningfuljust a dreary forlorn sense of lossmy thoughts little more than incontinencesoaking my brainin dehydrated pissBy Punk Underwood

Poor Lamenting Dionysus

The dark colored bottles  Empty and staling in mid-afternoon sun Smoke rising gently from their tops  from burnt out cigarettes illuminating the aftermath created They’ve soiled the rug The vacuum clears the rug  Sunlight nauseates Coffee percolates  Spackle caresses empty spots of longing In the hall room walls The linoleum is stained  Amber bile ruminating... Continue Reading →

Sand Ocean Seagulls

The sand’s slow pullGranules shifting sliding awayPulling my soft-skinned heelsUnderground up till my anklesI am nineBlooming with the ebb of tideListening to ancient forlorn wailsLofted on salted winds and dropped cleanlyAs the seagulls rummaging myLast remaining friesFrom a boardwalk lunchThey squawk and roost near garbage depositsAs my eyes battle the suns reflectionOn incoming wavesSearching for... Continue Reading →

Maybe Write Pretty

Maybe Write Pretty by Briton Underwood “Maybe write pretty” The thought falls off a plateau landing somewhere between the categories of ironic and felonious bullshit. Staring at the four walls this room has to offer as I pace; reclined to a figure eight pattern until the distress of these four walls makes me weak succumb... Continue Reading →

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