It's so gratifying to realize that
I don't care what you're up to
Post-deluge-of-Dilaudid. Or
Adder-all-outta-luck
Where the beige meets the blue, and
The cat's smelling flowers, and
We're squished in this chair, here,
But you don't give a ****
This was supposed to be the
Maiden voyage of
The S.S. Dog-Staying-Home-Alone
But, instead, familiar
Anxious chills, and shaky
Hands, and aching bones...
Hell, Baltimore is burning, whilst
Nepal just falls apart.
Sun beams, young, and up-and-coming,
Never getting called to start.
Does the wind smell
So sickly, did it die?
With the rest of me?
Is this that "long-count to thirty?"
Am I being too wordy?
"Stop rhyming, we need to drink."
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC
It's so gratifying to realize that
I don't care what you're up to
Post-deluge-of-Dilaudid. Or
Adder-all-outta-luck
Where the beige meets the blue, and
The cat's smelling flowers, and
We're squished in this chair, here,
But you don't give a ****
This was supposed to be the
Maiden voyage of
The S.S. Dog-Staying-Home-Alone
But, instead, familiar
Anxious chills, and shaky
Hands, and aching bones...
Hell, Baltimore is burning, whilst
Nepal just falls apart.
Sun beams, young, and up-and-coming,
Never getting called to start.
Does the wind smell
So sickly, did it die?
With the rest of me?
Is this that "long-count to thirty?"
Am I being too wordy?
"Stop rhyming, we need to drink."
I didn't write this as a sequel but it was the poem I wrote next and they are almost two perspectives on the same conversation
