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 “lucky”

And be a part of my next


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