Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Tags
#houseshow
Your feet got tangled in your own **** name                              Layed nights out end-to-end, now you're the oldest one here drinking in this dingy, shaking basement                    by at least "a couple years or so," so shrink from searching eyes. Strike up that ****** band again--                   your teeth have grown tall enough                           to ditch this ride                           Outside,               some drunken crusty's              trying hard to pick a fight       and shadowed necking in the corners            punctuates the "Got a light?"s                   like drowsy eyes and              yawning sighs parenthesize the way you check your phone a thousand times                                        "Hey, don't you work tomorrow?"                                         Yes, I ******* work tomorrow and... Though all these fresh-lit fuses                                           sizzle-- --starlight studs in leather night-- the morning leaves you spark-singed                paper, sulfur lungs                  and sagging eyes The stairway's ******* crowded with a thousand younger yous, feet creak the upstairs floorboards cue the crooked smiles in familiar hues                But pigs have pens                and feet have boots.                Old hats need heads      and birds, they need their roosts So let the lines fill in on this fermenting face and lay this craggy grin           into its worn-in place           beneath these creaking stairs           and let this basement shake.
0
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
kyle-kulseth
Where's My Hat?
Your feet got tangled in your own **** name                              Layed nights out end-to-end, now you're the oldest one here drinking in this dingy, shaking basement                    by at least "a couple years or so," so shrink from searching eyes. Strike up that ****** band again--                   your teeth have grown tall enough                           to ditch this ride                           Outside,               some drunken crusty's              trying hard to pick a fight       and shadowed necking in the corners            punctuates the "Got a light?"s                   like drowsy eyes and              yawning sighs parenthesize the way you check your phone a thousand times                                        "Hey, don't you work tomorrow?"                                         Yes, I ******* work tomorrow and... Though all these fresh-lit fuses                                           sizzle-- --starlight studs in leather night-- the morning leaves you spark-singed                paper, sulfur lungs                  and sagging eyes The stairway's ******* crowded with a thousand younger yous, feet creak the upstairs floorboards cue the crooked smiles in familiar hues                But pigs have pens                and feet have boots.                Old hats need heads      and birds, they need their roosts So let the lines fill in on this fermenting face and lay this craggy grin           into its worn-in place           beneath these creaking stairs           and let this basement shake.
Continue reading...
41