572
I was a punching bag a punchline a punchee spectacle of arms and legs on the killing floor of love the one the universe surely meant to be mine called me aside to confide she in fact, loves another. I’m the grinch in a clinch a cinch to exact revenge on the cucker who cucks me the cuckee and he didn’t even know it a war only I was fighting. I was judgement and punishment could have let him die in that SRO simply by walking away his last connection to this world held in my hand. Him barely able to stand. ramshackle skeleton covered in his own feces and vomit this once beautiful specimen of the liberal dream the leftist’s 70’s scheme All I can really remember from that day the on-call counselor this was before cellphones you had to use a payphone situated in a dark, decaying hallway in the Tenderloin. and the on-call counselor on the other end telling me: So if you really want to save this guy you need to get him into an ambulance now. That was the beginning of me not being a punchline the end of me being a punching bag. started. in a very expensive ambulance
