Writing Shit

Posted: April 6, 2014 in Poetry
Tags: , ,

Am I that diluted?


Really, are you truly kidding me?

You really think that a couple of words strung together

will mean anything to me?

What really matters

when the pain is too high to compete with anymore,

when her smile has completely disappeared from her lovely eyes,

when I can’t remember the last time I made love to …

That’s true though, the last part, that is, my reality

is always what I recall.

Seems until we can admit that, feel that, state that, understand that

all of our efforts are just really shit.

Well at least until we recognize …

Who we are depends upon what matters in our lives

how I write a couple of sentences depends,

upon how I feel at a certain time of night.

It’s 2 AM, here, underneath all that garbage,


so tonight if you were to guess?

Would you, really?

I would love your commentary

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