Day one, first of 30 poems. Rough, who cares. I don't use punctuation anymore, or caps, so there.
every morning
fondle a cigarette in my mouth like a tired
dick and amazing by the reality science says
no god made and sometimes
i agree
surviving
on trip hop and feels copped
and sun stained eyes
girls that live
in your city veins for a while
english doesnt quiver their lips like
fragments of spanish radio living
the single life
with a cum stain tattoo on my stomach swallow
shower water and kill
my two day beard last years
dirty face
and first
last smokes
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