Sad Labels:
uncertainty
,
weakness
the angles fussed. all talcum powder and feces. the physics shrugged. bored with gravity. its only choices. ambivalent atoms at the center of the storm. it's just paper. quiet songs and soda pop. turning little girls into women.
she walked. the road curious. her steps.villainous. the distance spoiling. like flowers cut. she waited. at the red light. picked fruit. fallen leaves. the courtesy of the wind. pretending change remembers us.
her purple tongue. an immaculate poison. her weakness ripe and succulent.
she looked for the road. wrinkles in the map. louder than the void.
the structure of lost. all salt and vinegar. the architecture of want. small pebbles in deep water.
she walked. the road curious. her steps.villainous. the distance spoiling. like flowers cut. she waited. at the red light. picked fruit. fallen leaves. the courtesy of the wind. pretending change remembers us.
her purple tongue. an immaculate poison. her weakness ripe and succulent.
she looked for the road. wrinkles in the map. louder than the void.
the structure of lost. all salt and vinegar. the architecture of want. small pebbles in deep water.
if you got sober, you'd be an even greater poet. i see it. alcohol only keeps you repetitive and dull over time. it never gets better, only worse. stagnant life that is not at all. slow suicide.
thanx. i appreciate your input.
in my experience, it's life that wears you out.
i've always been the poet that i am. for better or worse.
Alhohol is not bad... It gives you a perfect atmosphere to think ... Its not alcohol to blamed its some category of people who make it bad... For a poet its a perfct frnd
I adore all your poems ... They r just perfect... Keep writing ... Goodluck
Thanx Nitin. I appreciate your input as well.
Not a lot of time to write lately.
Post a Comment