A not quite poem or no fucks to give
I was someone different
Didn’t wear that mask that grinned
And lied without prodding.
Useta be the one to pull a lovely close
Twirl her around and dip
In the middle of the grocery store
No matter who was around
wrecklessly eye balling
Done forgot the love I fealt falling
Asleep under that blue black canopy
We decided to call Space. Half the time
I forget theirs even an up to look at.
Poems might as well be exercises
In mediocrity when ain’t no fire burning
Within. Just exercises that remind me of capabilities that I could once call upon from the ether on command.
Sitting up in bed is an achievement worthy Of a parade route through downtown
Making it a couple hours
At the coffee shop without crying
Should garner a free cup
Making it a day not seeing my Rorschach
In blood splattered on a wall
Should be worthy of a medal.
Reality is the best teacher.
Mood swings on tires through these Kentucky nights high on humidity and Intention. Elation and depression
Might as well be fucking
Inside my skull.
I hope nothing comes of it.