on December 29, 2011 by Mitchel Jonas in Poetics, Comments (0)
Monica’s Black Futon
I bought my black futon for 30 bucks
From my friend Monica
She had it for god-knows-how-many years
It got fucked on by every drunken couple
That stayed there
At her place
Cum, blood, lube, etc.
Particulate matter embedded deep
Within the funky waxy material
Now, over the years that futon sits in my flat
Falling apart
Bolts falling out
Main support bars bent
One time it fell whilst I was in bed with
Melissa or Bonnie
Now I make sure my cat isn’t under it
I don’t want her to get crushed
From more future-fucking
Girl “friends†they came
They went
Replaced by my escape from writers block
I’d rather be on the block
Listening to Eazy, drinking a 40
Maybe a hoodrat will get “luckyâ€
And be a part of my next
Prose
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