Need to make peace with the yellow butterflies
And the navel.
I cannot wait until I can start hurrying
Baffling the center of gravity.
Drinking is a sport
And so is writing... Ain't it?
So why the compromise with signing underneath it all?
Possesive afterglow of pen and paper fuckmaking.
That was a statement for the weakhearted
Who can never decide if they should win at all
After a loudmouthed argument - even when you know you are bullshitting.
Reaching for an end and an apple award
Sweet ecstasy of a french kiss on the television
Memories of last nights football game
Doused in matchboxes set on fire...
Nobody can make sense of a poem
That has no intention for intellectualism
I am free.