“Comments Section” – A Poem, by Me. — April 15, 2017

“Comments Section” – A Poem, by Me.

Comments Section

My name is David.
The only life you know of
that I have is the one
that you read about
in the comments section
on that story Yahoo posted about
Samsung phones catching on fire.

There I am a rich businessman
There I have a company
There I have any company in my home.
There I barely have time to run this concern
But more than enough time
To post five paragraphs
about how PC’s are for stupid teenagers
who play video games
and Macs are for real businessmen
real Captains of Industry
real Titans of the Technocracy
real mes.

Because I swear this life is real.
I swear I actually own a mac.
I swear I’m not posting this from a library
Not from my mom’s computer that runs XP.
I swear that that’s what a PC user would say.
“The devil told you that!” said Rumpelstiltskin
I swear I googled that on Safari.
At my business, that I own.  I swear.

Fuck you, you cretins who would question me.
But seriously, please fuck me.  It’s been so long.
I’m begging you.

My ability to Write Died — August 25, 2015

My ability to Write Died

My ability to write died.

I’m sending out the funeral notice cards.

I’m callin in the obituary

I’m ordering the keg for afterwards

It’s gonna be Paulaner.

I’m taking the day off for bereavement.

I feel so empty

we were friends for so long

he was my wingman

or was she my winglady?

We were not as close anymore

They always talked about

getting a sex change.

Let’s say he

He had better things to do

better friends

better connections

everyone was so much cooler than me.

Sounds like I’m used to this situation?

It should.

My ability to write died.

we weren’t describing things together anymore

we weren’t being clever we weren’t

using and connecting the right hyperfigures.

I knew things were getting grim.

He was drinking too much

I found syringes

He had cuts all over him.

I stopped him from knocking back some drano

just the other day.

And now I’m trying to hire a band

but they won’t be singing my songs

not any new ones anyway.

Just the other day he called me

he called me so drunk

I couldn’t make out what he said.

He got frustrated and he hung up.

He didn’t write a will

And I’m not the executor

What a dick.

So I’m setting up the food

there will definitely be a brisket

and there will definitely be few women.

Missing him will be hard

but I’ve been missing him for a while.

And as you might have guessed

I won’t be delivering the eulogy

kinda hard to…ya know…

write it

without him.