"fortyfive" poems
don't get on my nerves
kiddo it
ain't your mother's
fault that you're
a sucker
daddys come like
torpedos
daddys are
torpedos
who are you though?
no sweet toddler
no child
no youngster
i don't give a **** about
you
i am your daddy kiddo
i am a torpedo kiddo
don't gimme that family
********
you ain't nothing but a
kiddo
fortyfive year old
hangaround
deadbeat
***
leech
you're the harmless
version
toothless dracula
couldn't care less
about you
Nov 16, 2019
Nov 16, 2019 at 3:17 PM UTC
coffee spitting.
clicking.
fingertips stumbling ever so awkwardly
across the keyboard.
slightly stale leftover love.
making memories
drift in from the other room.
secondhand bassline
like an artificial pulse.
incomprehensible morning chatter
rising from the carpet
tickling the bare feet.
neutral silence
running noticeably
underneath it all.
like an omen
or a prayer.
a lost soul’s secret. desire
untold, and thus forgotten
or maybe just silence.
and nothing more
Aug 10, 2011
Aug 10, 2011 at 4:31 PM UTC