Ugh. Short and dented. I. Will. Not. Post. Again. Until. After. Finals. Humpht.


I have nothing to offer

soap-sud macadamia dreams,
wished upon an orange peel
covered with moon craters
and teeth-mark tattoos,

my will (to live),
my appetite (for destruction),
my life (of decadence).

It's up to you
whether you keep it
or let it float downstream;
I won't be here to see you choose.