i reminisce

i always wanted to be a poet,

a washed up wanna be,

with whore friends,

i was paid to read my poems

to them and their boyfriends,

i would confess to their murder,

of the filthy spirit in their pants

then swallow some scotch,

and puke more words on them,

they would laugh out loud,

point their finger at the door,

say get the fuck out buddha,

then they would leave

and I would count my tips

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