I Was Done Fucking (Poem)

I Was Done Fucking (Poem)


I knew everything

I needed to know about sex.

All of it

I knew how to charm,

I knew how to please.

I knew how to make them cum

But I had forgotten

What it was like to be loved.

To simply be held

And at peace


And that’s what I needed right now.


The bodies moved

And it was good

While it lasted

Plenty of sex

And flesh

And orgasms

But then she wrapped up her shit

And went home

Every time


The door


Behind her

Left a silence

I didn’t miss


I lay in bed



To Billie Holiday



Where my heart was

What it deserved

What it needed


It certainly

Wanted more

Than three

Used condoms

And an empty



A Seven Hour Road (Poetry)

There is a special kind of darkness
That only exists
In the great white north

And the empty road
You find yourself upon again
A constant reminder
You now had
Seven hours of it
(All of it)
Ahead of you
Before getting anywhere
And that getting dumped
In Saguenay
Was a very bad idea to start with

This was made worse
(Of course)
By the knowledge
That your
(Very limited)

Of hearbreak songs
Would play
Over and over again
As the radio waves
Have no reach here.

You are desperate
For a drink
Or a cigarette
As the endless space
Ahead of you
Knows only a rare
Set of headlights
Coming in the opposite direction

To remind you
That you are not in limbo
Just yet
Or perhaps
(And even worse)
may not be a place
Where you find yourself
All alone
After all.

Eight million
Square miles
Of pure
And empty space
In Northern Canada
And only one person
That matters
Right now

The road takes a curve
Up ahead
The black spruce
That grow here
(And only here)
Know how to make it
So dark
And silent
It feels like hell

Another set
Of yellow lines
Underneath you


And there are
Six hours more
Before civilisation

Switch songs
And press on the gas

You sigh and silently wish
For a deer
Or a moose
To be crossing the street
And smash itself

Into your dashboard

As you’d give
For anything
to happen
Right now.