where our daisies nightly… and our minds politely - just might be the rightly garments of our inner varmints. or Something has just Might Be. but something precisely - has dawn in a vice. armaments shiny. and all of our beautiful dying -
I’m a failed poet, not for the want of trying, nor was I afraid to speak my mind, no, I am thus classified due to my readers who are so ******* dumb that they never ever understood metaphors thought iambic pentameter was an ego measuring apparatus and a simile should be accompanied with a parentheses, two dots or an emoji.
I suggest they go and read Carol Anne Duffy, because I am just as bad, but not worse, yet she made laureate!
i dont want to write my feelings, behind the safety of a door, (stay in here) can i break down these walls, hold the things i adore? (they don't love you back) Don't need to write you back in, i should appreciate the space, (come back to me) and the friends i have left, i'd rather talk to their face. (three missed calls) So let me put this bottle down, out of luck or some divinity, (just one more) cause i don't want a tomorrow, if i can't love what's in front of me.