i’m thinking about communism
and the oxford comma but
illiterate neo-nazis still beckon
me to their bed
no means nothing
when the north winds
blow heavy
i need a new vice
as the mania sets in
another tuesday wasted
waiting for the words
to be written
to me, by me, for me
but i am nobody’s muse
never was
so i listen to
quasi love songs
and fill the emptiness
with roquefort and red wine
watching my friends
fall victim to
their habits


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