BEFORE YOU ATTEMPT

To sit down & write 
A book of poetry 
Keep in mind
For most
The process &
End result is like
Giving your heart
To a beautiful
Spanish whore
And getting a job
In a west Texas 
Slaughterhouse
Where you give 
Your soul away
Trying to support her
Many bad habits
Only to find
Years from now
When you're an old man 
Half drunk & mad
From the scent
Of fresh blood
That's taken up residence 
In your nose
From having worked
A lifetime
On the killing floor 
Where you spent
Hours every day 
Cutting the jugular
Of memories
To bleed them dry
She's taken
Everything you own
And in return left you
With a rejection letter
Describing all the virtues
You'll never possess
After which you
Shove a shotgun
In your mouth &
Paint the ceiling
A new shade of 
Hemingway 
Which in all likelihood 
Will be the only poetic
Thing you accomplished

—James Decay