She Had Face Like Indiana. By John Patrick Robbins

It was round and largely forgettable.

It matched her ass and her non-existent personality.

Sometimes she will reach out, when the attention isn't being given by her hard-up admirers.

Her emails go straight to spam and her voicemails I keep to amuse others.

I have a heart like the north pole it seems.

I already rode the ride, so why buy the shirt?

Never cherish a train wreck.

She had a face like Indiana.

A state that's slogan should read.

Welcome to Indiana, are you fucking lost? Because no one vacations here.

Cold baby, so very cold.

John Patrick Robbins, is the alcoholic of year for five years in row.

He is also the editor in chief of Twenty different e-zines, all of which fellow writers hate him for.

Yet continually send him work to be published in.

He has been nominated for five Pushcart awards ten Best Of The Nets a Grammy and a Academy award for his continued role of pretending to enjoy the company of writers.

In his spare time he runs the legion of doom and is the president of his local Fraternal Order Of Editors local chapter 666.

He is also in the market for a new liver.

So if you got one sitting around hit him up.