Sunday, July 12, 2015

Another Poem

How is it that I am
What I am

When I want
What I want, I want no more.

No less, take a cue,
Stage left,

Get stupid,
Getting ruthless with two

Dreadlocked heads.
The people

All stare,
Hold gasoline and light,

'Let's get the fuck out of here.'
Neon pores through,

This is language,
Not what is written. 

Dust in a glass
Held in fear,

A spinster
Of this,

My dear.

Staring at me.

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