I will die in the Westside
On some corner with a beer
In my hand, as if holding the lost
Scrolls of Atlantis.
I will die in the Westside-
And I won't be ashamed that
I am a drunken mess and my liver
Has swollen like my heart for
My dear neighborhood.
It will be a Tuesday,
I will go back and find myself
Within the aloness with all the Yesterdays
Behind me.
Dedpoet is dead. The world beats him,
Although he never fought back;
It beat him hard with a stick....
There will be witnesses,
Nameless and I will not know them,
Only the solitude, the grey, the cold roads.....
Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 8:59 PM UTC
I will die in the Westside
On some corner with a beer
In my hand, as if holding the lost
Scrolls of Atlantis.
I will die in the Westside-
And I won't be ashamed that
I am a drunken mess and my liver
Has swollen like my heart for
My dear neighborhood.
It will be a Tuesday,
I will go back and find myself
Within the aloness with all the Yesterdays
Behind me.
Dedpoet is dead. The world beats him,
Although he never fought back;
It beat him hard with a stick....
There will be witnesses,
Nameless and I will not know them,
Only the solitude, the grey, the cold roads.....
