"sixing" poems
where ever I try to go
I carry them home; these lashing rivers
never knowing how strong they'd run
or in which state the currents come
want to see a revolution in me
deep sixing with a clean slate
then be swallowed by the sea
love is a pretentious cite
why waste hearts in this colony
so please forgive my rush of blood to the head
and a gush of words I never meant
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 2:30 AM UTC