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"Mic" - This Fuckin' Guy Writes a Poem at a Mic.

Mic
So a couple of fucking hours ago
On my way to run some fucking errand
I pass by a sign that says "Open mic tonight,"
And I'm like, are you fucking kidding me?
So I walk in and I ask how fucking long it goes until
And the woman at the door say "10,"
And I'm like, ok, I'll fucking come back, then.
I'm thinking I can read some of my fucking poems
That I'm going to read
In fucking Los Angeles on fucking Friday,
Saturday and motherfucking Sunday.

But it takes fucking forever for me to finish
All of my fucking shit,
And I don't get back to the fucking place
Until like nine fucking thirty.
And I figure no fucking way
Am I going to be able
To sign up for this fucking mic.

I order a fucking sparkling water
I fucking love sparkling water -
This one's called Bolle,
And it's pretty fucking good.

And like three fucking minutes later,
The host, Eve, she fucking says,
 "ok, we have a fucking open slot.
The first person who wants go next
Can fucking go next.
So who fucking wants to go next?"
So I shot my hand right the fuck up
And I went the fuck up there,
And I read fucking "Sunset," fucking "Stars,"
Motherfucking "Moon"  and fucking "Bike."
And it felt pretty fucking good,
I'm not going to fucking lie.

And so now I'm a little less fucking nervous
About fucking LA this fucking weekend.
So thanks, Eve, for having a fucking mic
Three fucking blocks from where I live
At just the right fucking time
When I really fucking needed:
A fucking mic.

I felt so fucking good right now,
That I'm still fucking here,
Sitting at this fucking table
With my sparkling fucking water,
Writing this fucking poem.

I know, right?
10/8/2014

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