Tag Archives: Urban Poetry

Drug addict eyes

Tired Eyes

Susie had such tired eyes from all the shit she’d seen people she loved more than life itself dying in confusion and pain after living in misery and the others, the scumbags and assholes lording it over her, all her … More

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A Disaster Like This

It starts as an irritation, almost an itch a burning, at the back of my head What the fuck am I afraid of? Before I know it it’s a locomotive building speed out of control destroying everything in it’s path … More

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Two Steps Back

everything is nothing and everything is everything and suddenly names are not what they were and maybe we should stop talking and maybe we should listen for a change and maybe we’re not clean enough to stand on pedestals and … More

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3:19

This is when it stings me hard and vicious, like sticking my foot into a hive filled with angry wasps and I can’t escape your face, which is there in my mind, imploring me to just forget all the shit … More

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Rehab Stories: Rough Trade in the Kitchen

If I feel your hand on my ass, bro one more goddamn time I’m going to lose my shit That may be how they do things in prison but I’m a little boy from the suburbs and I feel I … More

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Christmas in Rehab

My family sits across the long table With shell-shocked trepidation they push over their presents for me I don’t deserve this, you know? Any of this Not the presents Not my family here taking time from their day to spend … More

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Loving the Wife (of a friend)

She wanted me She wanted it She wanted it You know it She wanted it She’d made that clear in no uncertain terms on more than one occasion and I tried to pretend that I was unaffected (but I was) … More

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Unpaid Bills

tiny maggots/hundreds of them crawling/squirming/writhing all over the cat’s food can’t remember/the last time I changed it where is that cat, anyway? in the closet? /in the corner? /under those clothes? buried in a mountain of trash? can I even … More

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The Pathology of Need and Night Train

I was funny in my twenties a jester fueled by Southern Comfort and cheap jug wine night after explosive night winding up in love or in jail and you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way I was something, wasn’t … More

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Jackson Pollack’s New York

This is what happens. Every time. Smash. Bang. Not my kisser. Some poor sucker’s kisser. Blood all over my shirt and pants. I remembered Susie. One of these days she’d pull the trigger. A shower of brains. All over the … More

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