Taking no prisoners. Including herself.

8,
Ummmm. Hey, Candy. How’s it goin’? Soooo I’ve run this by a couple of friends, and they fall into two camps: those who think I should just ante up and talk to you, and those who think me crazy. Well, okay, there’s a third camp: those who think I should stop with the poetry already, and move on, start an online dating service, plaster famous actor mug shots around the city, or just get my act in gear and actually write something “real.” But where would the fun be in that? I ask them. Accomplishment is so overrated.

So, tonight, when I saw you standing outside of Diva’s, I was really ready to go with the friend’s advice from the first camp and just talk to you. But then I saw you bitch slap that girl, and decided not. So I guess, instead, I’ll be proving the second camp right. Hope you like nihilist absurdity.
[Night eight: Dada, with a 21st century flare]

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