Need to make peace with the yellow butterflies
And the navel.
I cannot wait until I can start hurrying
Scurrying
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.
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2 comments:
Ok this one is a bit pretentious. It looks like you're showing off. Ironic because you've cursed the afterglow.
The last two stanzas look a bit spoiled. The images are forced and rather unenlightening.However the beginning is rather good. I too have to make peace with yellow butterflies and the navel.
You are good
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