Tuesday, June 21, 2011

poem of the day 06.21.11

california gold

my toe nails are bitten to shreds

i tell her that this way
of life cannot sustain itself
for much longer

i drink another green beer

and tell her how horrified i get
just walking up the street

cat hairs blows across the soiled couch

while she asks me if
i feel the same way about us

it’s so warm in here
the paint might as well be
peeling off of the walls

when i tell her
that with all of the other shit going on
i haven’t even had time to think about us

we listen to the same dogs bark
about the same things

as i tell myself to stop
reading beckett and sartre

one of the cats starts to shit on the floor

when she asks me
if i’m sick of living
or just sick of living in new york

my fingernails are red
with blood and puss

as i look at her and say
california always seemed so nice.

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