Literature Is Dead
It died giving birth to us
Time & place of Death
was at a party last weekend
the “AWPocalypse”

we kidnapped the professors
emeritus from the conference
and murdered them
and wrote bro-ems in their blood

we used a detector
to find spies from MFA programs
and made them dig their own graves
in the back yard

Bombs went off
in every English department in America
full of pudding
to represent “jizz”

at a party
writers did things
they have never done before
like drugs
and drinking beers
from a can

at a party
writers used words
they have never used before
at least six writers said “fucking”
I think

at a party
writers liked music
they never liked before
by which I mean Rap music

at a party
there were no nerds
and no one was ugly
or sad

at a party
I found someone’s inhaler
and inhaled all of it
that was funny

at a party
there was only love
and enthusiasm
and noooo lonely-times
I didn’t even check gmail

I fell on the floor
and humped it for an hour
my face wet with tears
from the force of all the

in the Post AWPocalypse
Ryde or Dye
pick a Syde or Dye

in the Post AWPocalypse
there is no Literature
only Wi-Fiterature
about real life:
boredom, loneliness, and love

in the Post AWPocalypse
we don’t read books
by the dead
their death will rub off on us

in the Post AWPocalypse
trust no one
over the age of 26
or maybe 7 if they’re cool idk

in the Post AWPocalypse
there is a bouncer at readings
to make sure you’re on the list

in the Post AWPocalypse
heterosexual male writers
sort of pretend to be gay
as a way of expressing affection for each other
and also because it’s funny right?
girls like that lol

Broseph Ballin’ is feeling a mixture of respect, annoyance and love. Probably he is just jealous.

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