"petulant" poems - Hello Poetry

In The Prison Of Winter, No Rise, No Set orbit nearly closed, the radio announcer gleefully chirruping, the twittering fool, "only ** graves to X off till spring" the weight of the prior the wait of the more no matter how little yet to come too much insufferable having suffered multiple life sentences you snit **** u don't know better, ha, they don't even run concurrently there are no sunsets in the girding grays of harsher enough and words that fail me, are the winners in the winter of the **** tests and hunts, I have successfully failed of course I'm wrong you petulant hobgoblin wringing nyet from me you'll get no concession, **** science, there are no sunsets in the winter and the sunrises, short unsweetened, light-less, less of less, frigid glaring revealers of dead trees and deader men maybe in the Rockies, perhaps the Alps, wonderlands photoshopped, pretty lies on the Internet BS posted where I live, wear the wear the weary neath the sweat stink of layers of unbundled choking hands, winter's damage assessed and assessment is never overdue, payable in immediacy heating bills I can't pay, a job that said no more of you, unpretty please, a woman who sorcerer-scarced herself right freaking black magic quick, trust me I have certified verified, me and Nixon, X's on the kitchen calendar, there is daylight, there is mighty night, almighty in long and colorless and nothing in between, but the smog stained slush of smothered life but definitely no sunrises and no sunsets watched all day from the imprisoning kitchen window which doubles as a **** you mirror there are no, not any, you know what, cannot even say them, the pipe dreams of better yet, pipes that have beaten down me and my disassociated senses, signed sealed and now delivered, from the formerly known as The Summer Man

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Mar 14, 2015

Mar 14, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC

dead-rose-one

In the Prison of Winter, No Rise, No Set

In The Prison Of Winter, No Rise, No Set orbit nearly closed, the radio announcer gleefully chirruping, the twittering fool, "only ** graves to X off till spring" the weight of the prior the wait of the more no matter how little yet to come too much insufferable having suffered multiple life sentences you snit **** u don't know better, ha, they don't even run concurrently there are no sunsets in the girding grays of harsher enough and words that fail me, are the winners in the winter of the **** tests and hunts, I have successfully failed of course I'm wrong you petulant hobgoblin wringing nyet from me you'll get no concession, **** science, there are no sunsets in the winter and the sunrises, short unsweetened, light-less, less of less, frigid glaring revealers of dead trees and deader men maybe in the Rockies, perhaps the Alps, wonderlands photoshopped, pretty lies on the Internet BS posted where I live, wear the wear the weary neath the sweat stink of layers of unbundled choking hands, winter's damage assessed and assessment is never overdue, payable in immediacy heating bills I can't pay, a job that said no more of you, unpretty please, a woman who sorcerer-scarced herself right freaking black magic quick, trust me I have certified verified, me and Nixon, X's on the kitchen calendar, there is daylight, there is mighty night, almighty in long and colorless and nothing in between, but the smog stained slush of smothered life but definitely no sunrises and no sunsets watched all day from the imprisoning kitchen window which doubles as a **** you mirror there are no, not any, you know what, cannot even say them, the pipe dreams of better yet, pipes that have beaten down me and my disassociated senses, signed sealed and now delivered, from the formerly known as The Summer Man