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fictionary… 8 megapixel artist… bloody awful poet.

Archive for the tag “sarcasm”

Baby Face Chinaski

baby fade chinaski

I don’t have time for your shit,

you post-pubescent misanthrope. 

Once upon a time,

when your ironic alter-ego roamed the streets,

and haunted the bars of dirty L.A.

like a piss-stained ghost,

you were yet a regret in your

bitch of a mother’s misbegotten womb. 

Although I don’t think I blame her

for how you turned out,

given how you beg for the teat

in every Facebook post of yours

I have ever read. 

Maybe I’ll listen to you

when you can grow a mustache

thicker than a row of pubes. 

Until then,

I will simply shake my head,

and comment less and less,

because the only two things you are listening to

in these last days of your misspent youth

are your own mewling laments of growing up too fast,

and the hollow sympathies of girls your own age,

who would sooner court the clap

than give you what you think will make it all better

for just one night,

before the sun rises in your sunken child-eyes,

and you post online once more.         

 

© Copyright 2017 William S. Friday

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WANTED: Couch

couch

WANTED: Couch.  With attached living area.  Kitchen and bathroom also a must.  Will sign one-year lease.  Rent-free preferred.  Location not an issue, but would desire within continental US.  Am available for immediate occupancy.

 

© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday

Fifty Shades of Bullshit

bullshit x

Fifty shades of bullshit got your panties in a bunch

fiction in the place of real friction

of wet thighs

and gravel sighs

and a man’s rough hands where you settle for the touch of your own

 

Waste of time between life’s stages

replaced by dog-eared pages where fantasy isn’t real

wax fruit in place of a meal

hot wax on skin like in some video with music and a grainy feel

story never meant to last like you and I once did

 

I have read your kind before

a spider web in place of a door

and spilt perfume to cover the decay of what once passed for your tender soul

cracked and old and dry and dying

and lied to by so many, then so few

now just by you

 

Last look back at a life unfinished

at bodies and minds left diminished

by time, by the past, by struggle against what once convinced us

that we were our last and only

never get lonely partners for life

till I saw light

 

Fifty shades of bullshit got your panties in a bunch

trying to remember what didn’t need reading

pages were never meant for feeling what once was between us

heat in the place of a cold feel, of pulp in the space where you melt cold steel

of my rough hands as they touched what was

my own

 

© 2014 Bill Friday

This work first appeared in the anthology “…and it happened under cover”,  © 2014 Nightwing Publications.  To purchase this book, please visit their website or Amazon.com.

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