some nameless arsehole suggested that I was morbid in my preoccupations but I exorcise my demons with brisk forays into verse I don’t need the remedy just the culture I own my shadow I was forged in adversity but that is true of almost everyone I ever knew each had burdens to bear and every burden borne was a story to be told
teach me to sleep I feel like a mutt with three legs I’m
all awkward angles and nauseous instance a blunt blade drawn through rancid entrails I’m expanding into unanswerable questions goofball
bums have no stories they’re shambling zombies and shadow men those goofballs triggered my psycho
reflex
I
call that progress I still get trapped in my
thoughts pure gestalt no paradox I’m running on empty high on fumes this
is my parade I don’t care what anybody thinks seen from the shore we are all of us drowning
No comments:
Post a Comment