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Hi. I'm Eric, and this is the poem I just wrote

SelectionIll

Bluelighter
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Aug 23, 2002
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Hi.
I'm Eric, and this is the poem.
It's not the only poem I've written. Really, it's not even the only poem I've written today.
But, this will probably be the most important one too you.
I feel messy, with you here.
watching me.
it would be easier if you were naked,
or if I were drunk.
then i would write great billowing poems of crablegs and champagne. i would impress you with broken money clips and you would comment on my tight jeans.
I would rub the inside of my thigh and you would blush.
"Oh," I would say "I'm sorry. Did I embarass you?"
"No," you would reply "no, not at all. I was just wondering where you were planning on going with this fantasy."
oops.
"Really, I mean, are you even going to see this dream through to my having a home. What about pets? Do I have any pets? You haven't really thought this out very well, have you?"
"No," I'd respond "I guessI haven't."
seemore
 
thank you.
i've been having a hell of a time writing. just a tough, shitty year i guess. so now i get to write about it.
anyway,, enough of my babbling.
thanks again for all your words.
seemore
 
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i know what you mean. i've had writer's block myself lately.
then i would write great billowing poems of crablegs and champagne. i would impress you with broken money clips and you would comment on my tight jeans.
reading this reminds me of one of my favorite movies, "Reality Bites." I dont know why, exactly, there's just something similiar in your style of writing here and the character of Troy in that movie. Whatever it is... i love it :)
and just in case you havent seen the movie... a few lines from Troy himself:
Well, should I get married, should I be good, should I astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and my faustushood and not take her to movies but to cemeteries and tell her stories of werewolf tongues and four clarinets... What 'Hey, That's My Bike' would like to do as a band is travel the countryside like Woody Guthrie.
There's no point to any of this. It's all just a... a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. So I take pleasure in the details. You know... a quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter becomes a cackle... and I sit back and I smoke my Camel Straights and I ride my own melt.
 
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