after a dose of particularly strong scotch
I envision the act of writing to be something of a reflex
that I can’t control

I feel like a hopeless addict
but instead of taking toxic things in
I put them out for the world to scrutinize

why the hell would I do such a thing?

what drives me to write
when I should be doing something more productive?
I might as well be chopping off my toes with a butter knife

I think writing is a reverse addiction
where instead of getting yourself high
you hope to get others high

the depressing thing is:
I don’t think anybody has ever gotten high
reading my goddamn poems



Filed under poetry

2 responses to “reflex

  1. Now I wouldn’t say that.

    I think your work is phenomnal. Maybe someday, I’ll be a prolific as you.

  2. good good vibes. i like this writing a lot. good vibes.

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