I can't take this city much longer,
It's wrong here; I feel it watching and
See it in your misty eyes when
You lie and say it's nothing,
You're great.
There's a haunting, a menace.
Something we've disturbed or offended
Is taking an extended vengeance,
Trapping us in a poetic wilderness
Lacking invention or vision. Days
pass like weeks and I make ropes out
of bedsheets, marking runaway routes
on maps before they even halfway
Reach the golden delicious dead grass.
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 11:03 PM UTC
I can't take this city much longer,
It's wrong here; I feel it watching and
See it in your misty eyes when
You lie and say it's nothing,
You're great.
There's a haunting, a menace.
Something we've disturbed or offended
Is taking an extended vengeance,
Trapping us in a poetic wilderness
Lacking invention or vision. Days
pass like weeks and I make ropes out
of bedsheets, marking runaway routes
on maps before they even halfway
Reach the golden delicious dead grass.
Request permission to use this poem