4 Am on a Saturday morning-night

By Tom Lin

Iím not a poet, I canít even write

Sakeís alcohol content is 16.5%

Insomnia accompanies when you least want it

My stories are planning their suicides too.

 

Writer dies once he stops writing

Grades falling in a steeper curve

Lost ability too write? Start drawing badly

Yeah, Future hates you too.

 

ĎDonít piss on your shoesí, some poster read

We start dying the second weíre born

Godís in heaven, everything is well on Earth

Iím farther from you every day.

 

Poems always written, yet nobody wants to read

70% is how you look, 20% how you sound, 10% what you say

Why read, when you can just see the movie?

Weíre all living in a horror show.

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