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
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