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Edward-ColesPoems
A standardized suit. A universal fit for all those who do not feel the nourishment of food. A career path cut through the hem of childhood and choked by a cheap thin patterned tie. The mothering of a paranoid system; “it’s not my fault, just jump through the hoops. I get paid to read you this book. Lend me half your ear and I will half teach you: Think. Don’t think.” Spot the simile. Dot the t and circle the i. And I. I am all in a room painted with flyers. They work like road signs, luminescent with lasered ink and ladled with pictures of success. You can. You can’t. You shall. They hang like smiling convicts on the wall. A warning shot to remember every time you catch yourself staring into the sky.
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May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 5:17 PM UTC
Lesson One
A standardized suit. A universal fit for all those who do not feel the nourishment of food. A career path cut through the hem of childhood and choked by a cheap thin patterned tie. The mothering of a paranoid system; “it’s not my fault, just jump through the hoops. I get paid to read you this book. Lend me half your ear and I will half teach you: Think. Don’t think.” Spot the simile. Dot the t and circle the i. And I. I am all in a room painted with flyers. They work like road signs, luminescent with lasered ink and ladled with pictures of success. You can. You can’t. You shall. They hang like smiling convicts on the wall. A warning shot to remember every time you catch yourself staring into the sky.
Edward-Coles
Written by
Edward-Coles
26/M/English
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 5:17 PM UTC
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