"iust" poems
One day,
I thought about you.
The next day,
I iust can't stop.
The day after that,
you haunt my dreams.
A week later,
My are around your lifeless body.
A week after that,
I found a new one,
And turned you to ashes.
Apr 20, 2020
Apr 20, 2020 at 10:44 AM UTC
I became addicted to nicotine
when I was only seventeen.
The sensation is like no other,
It makes you want another.
Your cells dance and prance,
iust ask the hedonists of France
To the priests that say malediction,
I say it’s the best addiction.
Yet the utopian feeling
is invariably temporal.
I thought I was heeling,
but my body is not eternal.
Kierkegaard says it’s theft,
sensation that deprives you and others.
but in the end there is nothing left,
albeit the crying mothers,
await the return of their children’s vestige.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC