Some
sort of critical mistake I'm making
causing
a lack of double taking
and
keeping in contact.
Sliding
off shoebox tops
flipping
through headshots
of
cancelled callbacks
reminiscence
mixed with sighs
Walk pasts
and
un-read texts.
Modernity
Modernity
only
limits your chances
of
a pity ffffff-….riendship
Polaroid
went out of business
so
we can’t shake each other
to
make the image of some past thing any clearer
Snippets
of lyrics left on doorsteps as steps away
a disappointed head case sees that his knocks
will
not move onto your doc-martin boots.
Like
cars during a black out at an ugly carnival
There
won’t be bumping any time soon.
Belly
button snap shots
jump
rope over morality
occasionally
tripping face first into bed
with
nostalgic tee – and sweat- shirts
draped
on office chairs & bar stools
picked
up the morning after
put
on the next night.
burning
eyes, flat hair covered by one
of
many hats covered by several of even more pins
collected
to assign a meaning to a barren skull
Exit
strategy
existential
crisis burying a second voice
down an ashen sink drain with fermenting friends.
And trapping that fox with the 16 stones I was given.
down an ashen sink drain with fermenting friends.
And trapping that fox with the 16 stones I was given.
Not
who they wanted but who they were near.
Turned
to mockery and cynicism out of fear
Should be living alone, locked in that shoebox he burned long ago.
Should be living alone, locked in that shoebox he burned long ago.
“Poetry?
Oh yeah, you’re really into that?”
Yeah
I guess so.
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