Many thanks to Gobblers by Masticadores for featuring my poem, "At the point where nothing in this world brings or even hints to excitement anymore"!

the third can of beer
empties

and she throws it
away

leans back into the
chair
and breathes a few times

reaches down between
her legs and starts
rubbing

and nothing

She’s finally there. At the point
where nothing in this
world brings or even
hints to excitement anymore

Where does
one go from that point?

What are the options?

It’s been four
days and nights already
and she’s still
thinking

hasn’t moved
from that chair once

Well, she’s definitely not
the worst muse
I’ve dealt with

just one of
them

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!