every time
it makes me want to
tear at my eyeballs
the imposition of
desire on dismissal
is it the age
or is it the dominion
of facts over
feelings that
in the english
sciences eats
its young
I won't be
broken down
by youth, by the
insensitivity
of power and
its way of killing
this growing
green
I tried, I tried
to keep the crowd
away,
to escape
I wouldn't it couldn't
dignify meaninglessness
and we have this group,
searching for signs of life
and a warm body would
have kept this winter from killing me
2 comments:
I promise these poems will soon be over, heheh
More specifically, I'm trying to purge myself of some things, my hope is to find a true poetic voice, and not my use of word games as a healing mechanism, regardless of how good it makes me feel, and regardless of whether I will keep doing it as a personal exercise.
I owe the world poetry, and not just metaphysical or relationship angst pulpiness!
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