You write a dating profile so you never have to write your own obituary.

But you’re a man child; you drink out of mason jars

Why do you have so many fucking mason jars?

You don’t do anything involved or time consuming like preserves.

You don’t preserve anything.

But you’d leave them in a pickle.

You are charming

And that is something in this world of cocks and cunts

Not spoken figuratively….


A body is a calling card

A shocking blink

A puritan’s double take

Makes  a one liner seem endearing

A syllable as tangible as a smile


But no one wants to play chat roulette

So she’ll settle on your relaxed attitude and posture

Maybe it will work like bird pecking at crocodile’s teeth.

But I have a feeling fate hates to see one settle

Maybe this plateau is your form

This decrescendo of chaos, your spin curved

All the while life is prone and ready to run away

And you will be forced to chase your own life

Clinging to its very fabric as it turns away

It’s running backwards and it couldn’t care less.

The End

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