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You're in love with a rotting Ginsberg The desert's tanks are overturned and your motifs are stale Fooled into the belief that anyone cares That clumsy wordplay is acceptable or that your name carries weight It's the same piece, week after week With drugs in your system and stoic aromanticism How do you expect to write a novel When ideas melt in tablespoons or are blown in dusty clubs You sit and watch rain fall in archaic gravel pits By a window, long overdue for cleaning and Jandek plays mournfully Watch as that jaundice coloured sky opens When the winds overturn dustbins and form trash streams, ironic Another languid day you waste on cannabis and ennui Whilst the world burns; it's people raving and the war is raging
0
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 10:08 AM UTC
No Sleep, Bad Poem, Boring Title (A Hungry Insomniac Attempts Self-realisation and Fails Miserably)
You're in love with a rotting Ginsberg The desert's tanks are overturned and your motifs are stale Fooled into the belief that anyone cares That clumsy wordplay is acceptable or that your name carries weight It's the same piece, week after week With drugs in your system and stoic aromanticism How do you expect to write a novel When ideas melt in tablespoons or are blown in dusty clubs You sit and watch rain fall in archaic gravel pits By a window, long overdue for cleaning and Jandek plays mournfully Watch as that jaundice coloured sky opens When the winds overturn dustbins and form trash streams, ironic Another languid day you waste on cannabis and ennui Whilst the world burns; it's people raving and the war is raging
reece
Written by
English
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 10:08 AM UTC
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