John D. Robinson

The Fuck-Up Again

‘I offered myself, you know,
or a blow job and he told me
that it wouldn’t cover the
interest on my debt, and I
blew him anyways to
sweeten him up because I
didn’t have any cash and
he gave me a bag to keep
me straight and I owe him
even more now:
I don’t feel good about
this, but what else what I
can do?
I’m fucked,
I need help’ she said:
and that was true but I was
on the bum for some wine
and some codeine and
I didn’t give care about
her fuck-up
and I walked away, trying
to ignore her voice,
calling out after me like
a desperate beggar,
a stranger,
much like I was.

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