27/367: The Four Tops - Ask the Lonely

Ok, let’s do it.  I’m not up to writing much tonight.  I’d only be able to write about annoying self-pitying shit, so instead I’m going to post a poem I wrote when I was…16? 17?  I don’t know exactly, but they’re from awhile ago.  I found a stack of poems when I was cleaning out drawers.  They’re unbelievable.  Possibly more horrible than anything I would write now, but I’m distanced enough from them that that’s not a problem. oh, & this is one i am actually willing to post. there are dozens that are so much worse. ok.

remove the bonds /before he responds / and it’s all over / before its conception / escape ecstasy / before reality / takes its toll / and makes a correction / stop playing creator / stop trying to inflate her / with what she’s missing / with what she desires / revive the obvious / invent oblivious / extinguish / futile fire

wow, some creepy adolescent yearnings.  that was…fun.  maybe in another entry, I’ll post the classic “Trash”.  Ohhhhhh, shit.  “Richard, is that the poem wherein you thrillingly emote, ‘I take my bloody heart from the floor / & wash it off with hope / & as i stick it in my chest i wince / because since my past beatings, i’ve been scarred’?”  Oh yes, it is indeed. It is indeed.