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unfinished scraps

because I’ve had every sickness there is,

I’ve become immune to everything.


I don’t care that you’re violent,

say things that aren’t true,


& that I talk

when it makes no difference.




my dog got his eye cut, & now we’re looking for some left-handed cat

last seen heading north in a black hood & white jeans.


Let those cunts scrap it out. But I had to fork out 116 fuckin dollars. Which is

too much alright: I guess


4 thoughts to “unfinished scraps”

  1. i do love my animals (except wasps & mosquitoes), unlike this poem, which is a bit of bollocks really. I have 3 cats, as well as a number of sparrows, blackbirds etc that hang around the back garden waiting for food scraps. I don’t have a dog. One of my cats got his right eye cut by a possum (heard it), but i changed the animals in my tale because it worked better with a cat as aggressor.
    Thanks for indulging me, Dean, & happy birthday (for? tomorrow)

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