I had my fortune read
by a woman with
enormous tits
and a face full of craters
she lit a cigarette
and asked me for my name,
before telling me
that I was creative and torn
and willing to be hurt,
as if it were
some sort of thirty dollar revelation.

Her eyes terrified me
with an overwhelming guilt
if I did not stare back;
yellowed and pale,
she was full of my future

and I only wanted to cram it back
into her rotten mouth
as she slammed the table, jolting me,
and demanded her compensation for
my newly founded fears.

March 24, 2008

The End

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