a poem for today, 2 November 2012

a poem for today, 2 November 2012
[a letter sorted sonnet of four sentences and its image]

No more cops, no more work, no more bosses, no more money, no more politics, no more sacrifices, no more wasted time, no more mommies, no more religions, no more boredom, no more orders, no more bad jokes, no more of this shit.
So haute.
It's just that with all the charting, testing, timing, checking for cervix location, doing mucus stretch test, taking temps, peeing on sticks, calendaring, taking pills, getting poked with needles has really made sex feel like a chore rather than an enjoyable experience for me.
Go figure.

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