Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2020
the hinge is creaking

it's about to pop off its hinges
break right off the wall
the same wall that's
pretty much held it up
even in the midst of the
green grasses of the teenage golf courses
when you could see her through
the window or in the driveway
or whatever / wherever you saw her -
but maybe you didn't even see her.
maybe it was all lost on you
lost in your imagination
where you used to be able
to let songs permeate through the cranium
fill in the cracks and
smoke the crack that you
might consider your brain ...

there are people that come and go in your life
some of them make sense
and others keep on
going on and on - oink and oink
not making a lick of sense at all
forever for ******* ever
and there's nothing you can say to them
because they live in their own tribes
inside their own heads and
none of them even played with toys as
kids. not a single one. maybe one.
no - not even one.

there's a calm that comes over you
when you realize that you are the last
of your kind. nobody else - not a single one.
the first and last of your own kind...
i guess we all are, huh?
thank god there's nobody else out there
just exactly like each one of us.

for the love of god
let me meet met.

nice to meet me.
we meet again.
stéphane noir
Written by
stéphane noir
     Michael Angelo and X
Please log in to view and add comments on poems