Leave romance to the poems you read.
Let art be art.
It’s our escape
From a life full of sharp corners.
But let a mess be a mess.
Let black be black.
If had a nickel
For every single
ephemeral nuke ive kissed,
I’d have enough money
To buy a pack of gum
That takes their flavor out of my mouth.
Love inherently has motion.
It can be redirected,
But it can’t be stopped.
I was discombobulated,
But now I’m walking home
To a strong man with scars over his pupils.
He has survived every day of his life.
The quality of my conversations with myself
Makes her look
Like some rusty Farris wheel
On the forth of July
In some small town that’s asleep
That will never wake up
That I can’t wait to leave.
Forgive my lack of gentleness
My heart has become a broken place
With sharp corners.