The Original Title Was Much Dirtier

I’d like
To incorporate
More paintball
Into my poetry…

That is absolutely NOT an invitation
To shoot me with paintballs
The next time or any time
You are unlucky enough to cohabitate
Perceived temporally defined space
With my fugliness…

Maybe something more like Poetry Paintball Night?
Like poets paint-balling each and the other?
Actually, I am realizing now
Just how evil
That would fucking get…

Fuck it.
Those quarter-sized welts
Are fucking fun
Looks like you lost a fight
With a pissed off 6’2 pre-heel stripper
And had a hell of a bout with joy doing it
Like you pissed them off
With gusto and intention

Such a great way
To burn off passive tension
Then again
I’d like to incorporate more paintball
Into my paintings

And driving

What I’m getting to
As I’m typing this
On this fucking tiny screen
Screaming for autocorrect
To shut its fucking whore mouth
Is that I’d like to work more paintball
Into most aspects of my life..

And driving

Like maybe I should really go wall-balls with it
Like maybe I should get
Use-paintballs-to-solve-all-my-problems-from-now-and-on into it
Like maybe I should reallocate all the money I spend now
On chapbooks and CD’s on paintball and get weird with it
So in to it

Like so in to it that I could write a book
All about the Ch’an of paintball
But I’m guessing a quick googling
Would turn out some prewritten similarity
As truthfully
I’m not all that unique
In my pattern forming tendency

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About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook: facebook.com/MolyTov
This entry was posted in Poetry, Written and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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