yeah,
sorry,
never mind the sunshine today,
I’ll forgo it,
for these grey billows come sometimes,
they want, not want,
to want, not want,
to stop wanting me to live in Greyville,
but I’m not so sure,
something about the fake plastic sun hanging from the blue
crayon sky of their lies,
their absolute misery that I would swim in their pondy pond,
not so muchly much,
not so fondly fond,
but frankly the whole thing just makes me want to run a blade
along the trenches,
right along,
a deep cryptic incision,
seal it up,
seal it shut,
or maybe I already have,
I’m not sure where I’ll go,
maybe China for China,
the vastness stretches all the way to the rock of Gibraltar
and beyond,
plenty of space to be lost,
to find yourself sitting on a boulder,
alone,
contemplating the grey chasm of misery you didn’t want
anymore,
and hopefully not regretting your voyage,
and hopefully not facing defeat’s deceits,
maybe I’ll forgo this today too.
No comments:
Post a Comment