Days Off- Acting Like a Genius

More Exposed, at 5.47 am I write poems like Wilt Wittman. It’s true, the first draft of anything is , all for a lasting minute. However, creating agitated intestines involves experiences and years of discipline. At that moment, receiving text messages, “I can’t live this way”, “life’s too precious”, and “we are finished”. Towards the end of everything, especially books, I wipe my ass. My original girlfriend returns from work. I’m sleeping on the sofa, drunk without love, hiding my hands that smell of cum. There are years of walking around a room, with clothes on the floor, it reminds me of my youth, "My old man”. Slipping into bed, I consider the nine cans left in the fridge, the things I lost, all within one day. By pissing out my ass, masturbating five times a day, or even by reading a short story by Hemingway. I neglected myself for this poem! My life’s not for everyone!. Upon waking, it all just starts again. T