Borges; this one
starts by your name.
fate did not want us;
fate wanted our words;
for yours to question mine.
to disenfranchise was its
goal on that July-ending day
in that smoke-fogged bar.
i shot true and drank with
heavied hand. you approached.
random-heaved spine, and you
were coverd by butterflies.
asked of life and responded:
i owe the Universe some
******* poetry.
the question reciprocated but
you were found without breath.
time found us parting
with civilized talking of a
pre-determined clandestineship.
our fate quelled in that bar
on that July-ending day.
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 7:49 AM UTC
Borges; this one
starts by your name.
fate did not want us;
fate wanted our words;
for yours to question mine.
to disenfranchise was its
goal on that July-ending day
in that smoke-fogged bar.
i shot true and drank with
heavied hand. you approached.
random-heaved spine, and you
were coverd by butterflies.
asked of life and responded:
i owe the Universe some
******* poetry.
the question reciprocated but
you were found without breath.
time found us parting
with civilized talking of a
pre-determined clandestineship.
our fate quelled in that bar
on that July-ending day.
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