addiction, alternative, free verse, improvisation, independent, literature, Uncategorized

Johnny Razor

Johnny hates himself.

He hates his life, his friends, his suburban “prison”.

Johnny hates the sun so he’s never seen it rise,

But instead is fascinated with the colour red

Deep and dark like fresh blood from the vein.


Johnny carves canyons into his arms

Because Johnny doesn’t care.


Johnny sticks needles and dope into his arms

Because Johnny doesn’t care.


Can’t even please a woman, boy is pathetic,

Limp cocked useless waste of space.


But Johnny has his dope

So Johnny doesn’t care


Johnny is swearing off sex, swearing off love, swearing off people.

He’s going to the downtown shooting gallery

Waiting for a direct hit to put him in the sky or in the ground.


“There is nothing and no one I’d rather get fucked by

Than the tip of a full syringe.”


Sad attempt at writing

Modern, witty poems

That reference cool new things

Canned Beer, celebrities and

Long walks home alone through icy nights.


He wishes he was Jim Carroll

Pumped through a fuzz pedal

Amp turned up to 11.

He’s really just another lost kid

Trying to make something out of nothing.

Jack Blare, Silver Chain (2016)


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