Now That's What I Call Alternative Literature

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'Writing in July' by Jakob Maier

sitting on a blood-stained couch silently waiting for a text message that may or may not have been sent at some arbitrary time in the last three days

the weatherman says it will be ‘cold with a few showers’ here even though it is july

the weatherman on the rival news station agrees and adds that it will be that way for at least the next half a week

i did not know it was possible to use up an entire roll of toilet paper in place of tissues in just three days

i used to look at the moon every night and think various thoughts centered on the idea of ‘wow it is so big and so far away and so beautiful and someone walked there once god that is cool’

now i look at my ceiling and the words written on it in faded black sharpie and think ‘fuck’

i will check the internet for news regarding the weather in the next two days and i will also ignore every facebook notification that contains your name in it

it is the 4th of july

i can hear the concussions of big illegal fireworks through my closed double paned windows at 3:38 am

i know that my cat is scared in the basement and would like things to please quiet down

'fuck you' says the second law of thermodynamics 'explosions up in this bitch left and right chaos chaos chaos'

i am beginning to feel something that could be called ‘tired’ or ‘confused’

i am going to go to bed

i am going to explode



jakob maier is a writer/musician from portland, which explains his love for both poems and shoegaze. he blogs at

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