Hello PoetryVoting

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

Vote

Voting-Boards

Home

HomeFollowingInboxNotifications

Read

ReadLiftedFeedsHeartedHistoryMy poemsNew poem

Explore

ExploreOrbitsWordsTagsClassics
Log in
0
Stars
0
Embers
0
Alerts
0
Inbox

7:45pm

"7:45pm" it means time and time again that everything is new, that magazubes conzine poetry, that spelling is relative. it means the last kiss is the first kiss, is the first piss worth this? it means i am numb, i feel [or fall out] harder than you, i think until i bleed, i mumble the streets mid-morning, mid-slipping sleep; the windows aren't lit, the neighbors still sleep. it means last night was a quickly remedied failure, fixed by mix of music and a can of aerosol aimed at canvas, or a bottle turned inside out, or a typewriter being taken advantage of. it means the groping and loving before the fight was genuine but an uphill, losing battle against ourselves. it means i love you and hate myself for wanting to release my grip upon your heart because then you would be even more hurt and i would be even more alone. the closer i am too you, the more it blurs. the more i cannot focus, the more i feel like a locust that is just greedy and hungry and can't give back what i've taken from you. i want to give back. but locusts travel in swarms and eat crops alive; this is not how i learned to survive. my heart begs for it to make sense, my head begs for this shit to stop.
Request permission to use this poem
Written by
wm-jones
American
Published
Dec 16, 2011
Lines·Words
30·227
Permission

Request to use this poem

Tell wm-jones how you would like to use it. We review requests before forwarding them.

AboutBlogFAQPrivacyTermsContact
© 2009-2026 Hello Poetry/v27.0 by @eliotyork
Explore
Hello PoetryVoting
Write