instant poetry vol. 7

mookie d

last tuesday




screaming and throwing ashtrays
seems a little overboard
i ball my fist up and
say a quick pray for sanity
who gives a shit about money,
looks, shiny cars, fashionable clothes
i just want to wear these plaid pants
and listen to the new strokes record
i close my eyes so tight
and scratch my neck out of habit
i let the fury build until
the levee breaks
and it all comes flooding out
"i think i love you until you open your mouth"
"you'll never be the best sex i ever had"
"i hope you die poor and alone"
i considered suicide as the best revenge
the thought of you cleaning up
what's left of my mind made me smile inside
but i'd never give you that luxury
the ironic glory of pushing me over the line
i ash my cigarette on that persian rug
that you just "had to have"
winked, and blew you an empty kiss
as i turned for the door