walking through
a shimmering testament
to applied ignorance
lights are everywhere
penetrating the darkness
i would so love to succumb to
stifling sobs because
apparently that's what dignity is
maintaining illusion
so as not to dissuade
the ones around you
those beautiful, promising
robots walking down
the cyclical path to oblivion
again and again
i'm here and again
weeping like
a hot tea kettle and again
the dog poem
remains elusive and again
it's so sad
i'm Bukowski but
with no beauty and
too much priviledge and again
i buckle under
the enormous weight of
old age and pathetic dreams
written in sand and
dust and
sidewalk chalk
before the thunderstorm and again
propped up
by the lucky few
who witness my attempts at honesty
and again
it's the pain
on the tops of my eyeballs it's
my hands
and right foot falling asleep it's
westville ave at night
hoping i get shot it's
rambling until everyone leaves and
not wanting to go anywhere
but talking it's
only being able to say
"i love you"
when drunk it's
uncle george's silver star it's
getting close but
even inside isn't
close enough it's
creeping it's
fear it's
headaches it's
10 AM it's
too much it's
not enough it's
everything it's
nothing it's
again and
again and
again
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
walking through
a shimmering testament
to applied ignorance
lights are everywhere
penetrating the darkness
i would so love to succumb to
stifling sobs because
apparently that's what dignity is
maintaining illusion
so as not to dissuade
the ones around you
those beautiful, promising
robots walking down
the cyclical path to oblivion
again and again
i'm here and again
weeping like
a hot tea kettle and again
the dog poem
remains elusive and again
it's so sad
i'm Bukowski but
with no beauty and
too much priviledge and again
i buckle under
the enormous weight of
old age and pathetic dreams
written in sand and
dust and
sidewalk chalk
before the thunderstorm and again
propped up
by the lucky few
who witness my attempts at honesty
and again
it's the pain
on the tops of my eyeballs it's
my hands
and right foot falling asleep it's
westville ave at night
hoping i get shot it's
rambling until everyone leaves and
not wanting to go anywhere
but talking it's
only being able to say
"i love you"
when drunk it's
uncle george's silver star it's
getting close but
even inside isn't
close enough it's
creeping it's
fear it's
headaches it's
10 AM it's
too much it's
not enough it's
everything it's
nothing it's
again and
again and
again
