We're very much alike.
Poetry is our inspiration,
we were born writers.
People call us BBQ sauce snobs
wine connoisseurs
and brothers.
But he likes to dance
at night--
in the headlights
when the air pierces the skin.
His deep dark pockets
are an oblivion of cigarettes
and full minis of Jack.
Remind's me of Harpo.
He walks like a snake slithers--
body swaying
and a gleaming mischievous twinkle
in his eye.
We both enjoy crisp, autumn days,
but he prefers them cloudy--
dark.
He says it brings out the color
in the reds and orange leaves jumping off the trees to twist in the breeze.
Listening to stand-up is our solace,
though he says Hicks is god.
I say Carlin
His shadow reminds me of a demon--
the long lost son of Medusa.
He's not afraid to say what he thinks,
cause he knows he's right.
Sometimes I believe him--
he speaks with such nonchalant confidence.
There's always a needle on his words
swiftly flitting and flickering
like a flame he's flicking off his tongue.
And if his words hurt breaking the skin?
"Don't be such a ***** he'll snarl
before turning the charm back on
with a giggle and ironic wink.
He likes to collect
the faults in others
cause his thinks his **** don't stink.
He keeps reminding me of mine.
He enjoys needling
people.
We've known each other
for a long while.
Seems like longer....
but that's cause my roommate is me.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 8:08 PM UTC
We're very much alike.
Poetry is our inspiration,
we were born writers.
People call us BBQ sauce snobs
wine connoisseurs
and brothers.
But he likes to dance
at night--
in the headlights
when the air pierces the skin.
His deep dark pockets
are an oblivion of cigarettes
and full minis of Jack.
Remind's me of Harpo.
He walks like a snake slithers--
body swaying
and a gleaming mischievous twinkle
in his eye.
We both enjoy crisp, autumn days,
but he prefers them cloudy--
dark.
He says it brings out the color
in the reds and orange leaves jumping off the trees to twist in the breeze.
Listening to stand-up is our solace,
though he says Hicks is god.
I say Carlin
His shadow reminds me of a demon--
the long lost son of Medusa.
He's not afraid to say what he thinks,
cause he knows he's right.
Sometimes I believe him--
he speaks with such nonchalant confidence.
There's always a needle on his words
swiftly flitting and flickering
like a flame he's flicking off his tongue.
And if his words hurt breaking the skin?
"Don't be such a ***** he'll snarl
before turning the charm back on
with a giggle and ironic wink.
He likes to collect
the faults in others
cause his thinks his **** don't stink.
He keeps reminding me of mine.
He enjoys needling
people.
We've known each other
for a long while.
Seems like longer....
but that's cause my roommate is me.
It's preferable to read the poem with this song in the background...
http://youtu.be/F29Ky5ncefQ
"You Rascal You"
by Hanni El Khatib
