good morning from the north coast
where i ran a hurricane through the wash
and hung it up to dry
before i chased a fever down a battered thermostat
to sneak a swap between its truth to my lie
welcome to the north coast
where all the older all the golder
even if it was once nightmare black
we here do have a habit of missing what we lack
where i stretched to touch the morning, to find it so closely out of reach
and did the laundry once more
drowned the daytime dark with bleach
with another voice, seasoned, worn, hurricane-ripped but not tornado-torn
fidget still in my fingers, sore still in my head, still
beginning upon a realization, only further away
drift, so it drifts, the push is a blessing
till sore turns to burn and fidget becomes seizure shake
till all good things worn out with season-anticipated break
and no break is a good break, no efficiency is deficiency, deficiency is lack
lack is no good and no good is evil
and evil is darkness and darkness was meant to be bleached
if all good-really-but-bad-really things could be survived
as lessons but to teach
and how many more? till my voice loses hold again?
till all hope comes loose? cog in the machine and the machine hates itself too?
till chapter begins with over till book reads end
till i found myself another war to tend. till the summer thins and the fall rains begin to pour
once more, it's flooding out my door
and door keeps evil but not from coming in
keeps my own mercilessness trapped deep within
and within leaves room for thought but fall leaves fall
and drown in my admission, or don't bother trying to make it out at all
and delusion is my saviour and delusion is her crown
till all my good promises became people to let down
and i love you my baby, i love you with good will
and good intention. and all the seams i tried to sew
but there was so much more you did not know
Jun 25, 2017
Jun 25, 2017 at 5:02 PM UTC
good morning from the north coast
where i ran a hurricane through the wash
and hung it up to dry
before i chased a fever down a battered thermostat
to sneak a swap between its truth to my lie
welcome to the north coast
where all the older all the golder
even if it was once nightmare black
we here do have a habit of missing what we lack
where i stretched to touch the morning, to find it so closely out of reach
and did the laundry once more
drowned the daytime dark with bleach
with another voice, seasoned, worn, hurricane-ripped but not tornado-torn
fidget still in my fingers, sore still in my head, still
beginning upon a realization, only further away
drift, so it drifts, the push is a blessing
till sore turns to burn and fidget becomes seizure shake
till all good things worn out with season-anticipated break
and no break is a good break, no efficiency is deficiency, deficiency is lack
lack is no good and no good is evil
and evil is darkness and darkness was meant to be bleached
if all good-really-but-bad-really things could be survived
as lessons but to teach
and how many more? till my voice loses hold again?
till all hope comes loose? cog in the machine and the machine hates itself too?
till chapter begins with over till book reads end
till i found myself another war to tend. till the summer thins and the fall rains begin to pour
once more, it's flooding out my door
and door keeps evil but not from coming in
keeps my own mercilessness trapped deep within
and within leaves room for thought but fall leaves fall
and drown in my admission, or don't bother trying to make it out at all
and delusion is my saviour and delusion is her crown
till all my good promises became people to let down
and i love you my baby, i love you with good will
and good intention. and all the seams i tried to sew
but there was so much more you did not know
Request permission to use this poem