Thursday, April 3, 2014

Yet Another Empty Boast

Flabby after weeks
of sticking to minimalist fictions
creating one or two little snippets
about as effective at keeping in shape
as 5 jumping jacks a week,
not enough to climb that
steep distance to 10,000 hours,
arrested by the allure
of romantic russian illusion with
someone who deals with harems
as I work an old job
with old habits
with old faces
with old shame,
the old slavery game erodes at me
but I can hear that xkcd comic whispering to me:

Fuck that shit.

This comes as easy to me
as a camel spits
so ever so late I'll do this 30 for 30
even though it may go till May.

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