This Poem

Cobain is my archetype
(a hormonal hangover,
I know)
but
 
I wish to grow my hair
until
it is long
greasy
and unkempt.
 
I wish to buy some jeans
with holes in
and a new jumper
that will look old.

I wish to buy a shotgun
and get someone
to dress up
as Courtney Love
and pretend to have done it
but deny it
(very well)
so as to leave people
confused
as to whether it was
suicide.

So as not to cause
any inconvenience
to the person pretending
to be Courtney Love
I would write this poem.

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