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Reading Poetry | Striving For Perfection Fucks Up Everything
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Striving For Perfection Fucks Up Everything


I’m the worst cunt in the world

No one is worse than me.

For my next bride,

I shall marry the Queen of She

Ba (Academy presents her majesty.

Nominee gushes.

Audience applauds exhaustively.)

She will manhandle me,

Liquor on her breath,

Feathers framing vagina.

Inflamed blossoms drenching submissions

She told me to delete

The photographs,

Even though there were many

Caught her beauty in amazing graces.

She hated me

For putting up so little struggle,

Obliterating her splendor


I wanted to prove

Deserving of her love.

she dilly-dallied, distracted.

I cried pitifully, “Where’s my girlfriend?”

Chain of events to nothingness

My desolate existence

One deficit after another

Honed to fragile cutting-edge.

I wanted her to pleasure me

With subtle painful tinge.

She brilliantly found fault

Every conceivable way to blame.

She accused, “you fiddle in noodle factory.”

She was the true artist,

Dissatisfied with the sound

Of my heart beating.

You want to play hardball with the big boys?

You better show up with bulging intelligent creativity.

You complain about

Every infinitesimal gargantuan thing.

Nothing makes you happy.

I will always love you no

Matter how impossible.

Looking back,

You were an impossible chance.


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