I was a little
drunk tonight, at work
and it was both
stupid and great
- like that time
Mike convinced me
to smoke a joint with him and his girlfriend
when I lived in
Grafton's shittest flat
(I only agreed
because he'd fucked me
four nights earlier
and I could still feel
his tall torso looming over me
and over
the blood-stained sheets -
and even as I write this poem
I see the habits
unravelling
my life's not really as badass
as it sometimes
sounds
on here
it's just that the badass bits
are sometimes the only bits
worth mentioning
sometimes they're the bits
that feel most alive
most raw and therefore
most honest
most like me.
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