Poem Monday

I should blog about the awesome Bob Dylan concert I went to last week, not realizing the zoo was inside the park and asking directions two blocks from the actual location. I should tell you about how parking was free and the bottle of white zin I drank before the show, th cop that pulled me over after the show, and taking an exist at 1 a.m. that was actually pointed south and added 20 minutes onto my driving tim (which is A LOT when you have to wake up for work the next day)

I want to complain about how people never change and that once I see certain sides of someone that I know I should write them off but too often I give them more chances, reminding myself of all the mistakes I've made.

But instead, a new creepy poem:

Suicide Trivia

I know you're tired
of finding out facts

Broken Bic razors slice flesh
better than most box cutters

I noticed you only use forks
and knives when you come to dinner
after you found the kitchen spoon
lying across my bathroom floor

I stood still and watched
as you covered your ears
(among other parts)
and dropped your eyes down
when I told you that a single person
can make it through sex
with over 30 men
and live to make you cringe

I don't expect you to believe me
when I smoke pot, exhaling
that it's easier
than finding a doctor
to refill a few Adivan

Because there's no need to worry
about the bottle of sleeping pills
I keep in my bedside drawer

Even all 30 of them
have the power to do nothing
but make me sick