Not Trying To Be Wittier Than You

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Not trying to be wittier than you

Perhaps I just am

You launch into hate

But I still don’t give a damn

Loud noises in place of words

You may stop with all your needs

My soul is immune to you

You say “asshole!” I say “indeed”

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She Was Telling Stories About Her Darker Creases

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She was telling stories about her darker creases
Seaside jaunts with a tireless string of boys
Social classifications leaving us feeling abused
Systematically wearing down a soul without any noise
Searching for fun in spite of former cuts & bruises
Sensations nearing proportions of hazy juvenile tales
Snapping to after another round of spirited friends
Sold on a notion even though our memory may fail
Sandy journeys bring us back to where we were lost
Still meandering around the area we remember most
Striking out to change the way our life unfolded
Stagnant when we finally return back from the coast

A Palpable Desire

A palpable desire
Feeling it from deep within
Drowning my anxiety
Beneath 4 olives, vermouth & gin
Supposed to be a functioning adult
But I say bollocks to all that noise
It wasn’t all that long ago, still
Running the streets with the boys
Though I dress better now
The soul leaking through cracks
My heart is a fragile commodity
Foreboding the oncoming attack

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A Modern Day Philosopher

A modern day philosopher
Hiding away from the crowd
Society – a poison leeching
Anxiety – they’re far too loud
Finding a simple spot
A place to quietly write
Thoughts, words into deeds
To be myself without a fight

 

 

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